


Control

by Bbanimal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Revenge, Shameless Smut, Slightly devious Sansa, Slow Burn, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbanimal/pseuds/Bbanimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: The entire Stark family is murdered, except for Sansa. </p>
<p>Someone comes along and gives her a second chance, a new life, a chance for revenge - that someone is Petyr Baelish. </p>
<p>"The past is the past, the future is all that is worth discussing". Petyr makes sense of his own words, with Sansa by his side - herself unsure of what that future is with him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been kind of obsessed (i.e. super obsessed) with the Petyr and Sansa dynamic. This is my love-letter to that obsession... and my VERY FIRST fan-fic. 
> 
> I have the beginning and the end all written out so lets see how the middle goes.... hmm.
> 
> I really want to get a good sense of build-up between the two of them. Please enjoy - it is a slow burn, but I promise it is well worth the wait.

 

 

It had seemed ages since she had stepped into the shower. the tiled room had filled with steam and the water still ran hot. kneeling on the floor and laying her head on the marble she cried. Her tears seemed cool on her face compared to the temperature of the water and she welcomed it. The slight comfort it gave her in that moment. 

 

She did not care who could hear her sobs over the running water, but only one person would ever hear them. He sat in a modern gray, wing-back chair, one elbow leaning on its arm - the other hand holding a glass of bourbon, the ice cubes long melted. He stared into the darkened room and listened to hear sobs. It had been only thirty minutes but it seemed to drag on for hours. 

 

He had found her a week earlier, unconscious, bruises all over her arms, legs, left eye blackened, with a deep cut below it. Her lips cut and scabbed as she lay on the floor in her families stately manor house. The blood from her own head wound and blood of her family pooled around her. The entire family had been done away with, one bullet each. As he kneeled down to inspect the forms he stared at one in particular, the oldest daughter. This one had faired far worse, though not shot, she had been beaten to near death. He had shaken her once he knew she was alive, only receiving a moan in response.

 

He had picked up the bloodied red-head and wrapped her in a blanket from a chair in the sitting room. He carried her over the threshold of her old life - of those she loved and would have to bury in her grief, to a new life he hadn't dared to conceive.

 

She had been placed gently in the backseat of the black Aston-Martin that was parked in front. Opening the boot, he found a small bag and unzipped it. Rummaging through the bag without looking, his hands wrap around a small glass bottle and a needle sealed in plastic. He ripped open the plastic and stabbed the clean needle into the top of the bottle, pulling out the drug. He opened the back doors again, gently grabbing a bruised arm and sticking her with the needle, filling her with morphine. It would be a long drive and he didn’t need her awaking and screaming out in pain.

 

Pressing the clicker, the car beeped and locked. He would allow no one to get in but himself, no one would know Sansa had been laid in the back of his car, the only survivor in her families murder. He walked through the front door again, feeling the crunch of glass under his boots. he looked out over the mahogany floor and saw them all. He knew by their number it was all of them. The entire Stark family. His hand never left the gun at his side as he went from room to room, staring at the remnants of a family no more. 

 

The grey walls of the hallway and entry were flecked with blood. In the kitchen plates and glasses were strewn and broken all over the floor. A vase of lilies was overturned on the large dining room table, the water from the vase slowing dripping on to the floor and the ornate oriental rug beneath it. 

 

Chairs were overturned. The door to a bedroom was cracked, the glass knob shattered and inside, a vanity chair turned over. Bottles of perfume cluttered the floor amongst the other disregarded items - a black silk dress, a pair of exquisitely tall black-pointed heels, the photos of a child hood and family now gone. As he walked from the room he looked down, blood had stained the white carpet. 

 

The other rooms all were in the same state of disorder. Nothing of value had been taken, though he had known that walking into the house. He had known for weeks nothing would have been taken. He also knew no one would come to find out about this murder for days. Pulling a cloth from his pockets he wiped down all the doorknobs, found a spent handgun and it too was wiped clean. A stray bullet there, the butt of a cigarette here. These were all picked up and placed in the trunk of this car. 

 

As he climbed into the drivers seat he looked back and saw her, now resting her cheek against the leather seat, her eyes closed - breathing shallow. She was alive and quiet. He started his car and turned down the drive as if nothing had happened. After an hour of driving, he stopped to pull the few items he had taken from the house out of the boot and threw them into the river along with his gun wrapped in a cloth. The girl continued to lay there, unmoving.

 

His phone buzzed, a message appeared on the glass screen;

 

_“How did it look…?”_

 

He grabbed the phone and typed in response, “ _Like a fucking massacre…. and….”_ the phone buzzed again, 

 

_“And?”_

 

_“I found someone.”_

 

The buzzing stopped after the message was sent. No more. Silence. 

 

It was night by the time he pulled into the parking garage. Her labored breathing could be heard in the back seat. He looked at her through his rearview mirror and thought, _she looked like hell_. After scanning the garage for movement he opened the back door and pulled out his mangled package. Walking away from the car, he locked it and stood in front of a black elevator door. His private lift - only two stops, Lobby and the 25th Floor, the top. As the lift hummed, he lifted the blanket to see her mangled face, even through the black and blue, he could see she had been quite the creature. 

 

It stopped and the doors rolled open, showing a dark hallway with nothing but a solitary light fixture above a shiny black door. He fumbled, managing to grab his keys and unlock the door. He opened it to find the clean silence of his flat welcoming him. As he threw the keys on to a marble counter, he turned down a short hallway and quickly walked into his room. Laying her gently on the bed, he turned to open the doors of his closet to find his med kit.

 

She was not concuss - thank the Gods, but she was covered in bruises and multiple cuts. Even her hands, they were caked in blood as she must have wrapped around her hands around a blade meant for some other part of her body. He opened the black case and pulled out iodine and gauze. Slowly he dabbed the blood that seemed to cover her entire body. From the amount of blood, one would not have known her socks had been blue, or that the slip she wore was tan. She didn’t respond to his touch, the morphine still sedating her. 

 

When a pile of bloodied gauze lay on the floor, he began to cover every cut with an antibiotic cream to fight off any infections that may have wanted to fester. A bandage was placed under her left eye, and covering every gash on her hands. He even found a wound on her stomach, again, not deep, nor a puncture. They had missed. Even the wound on the back of her head had been cleaned and found to be minor. He now knew why an indent in the hallway of her home had been covered in blood. her head had been thrown against it. 

 

Her breathing was now slow, and unlabored. After she had been tended to, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Three hours later from the sitting area he could hear her moaning. He had thought little during that time, but had silently lain on his couch, counting the minutes. As he entered the room her eyes looked glassy and tears began to fall down her face. As she tried to rub the tears away with her hand she pulled them away to stare, seeing them sore and bandaged. She seemed too numb to do more - he kneeled down beside the bed. 

 

“Hush, you are safe now. Please calm your nerves, sweetling it will all be explained soon enough”.

 

With that, she only stared listlessly into his eyes, unsure whether to scream or fall back into the bed and sleep until her last days.

 

“Here, let me help you, we need to get you cleaned up and back to sleep".

 

Looking away she lifted her hand as he gently took it - also fixing his hand under her arm to help her into the washroom. 

 

She heard a faucet turn as he began to run a bath. He dumped some salts in the water, for the water soon grew cloudy. 

 

“Please undress and get in, I will look away”. 

 

He turned away only to feel the light touch of cloth on his back and to hear soft steps as she entered the large soaking tub. The salts made the water murky, though unable to see her naked body - he still shivered at the knowledge she was bare. Once the tub had completely filled, the water was turned off and she leaned against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes. Again, silence and tears. He lifted her arms and wiped the off the blood, the water becoming tinged with pink. Her eyes remained closed and she silently cried. He gently tapped her on the shoulder she opened her eyes, he had motioned for her to lean back so he could wash her hair. She felt his hands gently graze her scalp, flinching as he touched the sore spot on her scalp. He was still gentle nonetheless. The blood had been cleaned from her hair - running his hands through her red locks he rinsed her of the crime scene that had been her body. He let the hair fall against her back. 

 

He rose, “can you finish cleaning yourself?” She nodded slowly. 

 

“Good. I will be outside, if you can, please dry yourself and put that on” motioning to a white shirt that had been placed on the counter. 

 

Again, she nodded. 

 

“I will dress your wounds once your done and you can go back to sleep”. 

 

With that she turned her head away from his stare and he shut the door, not waiting for her response. 

 

She wasn’t too much longer. Opening the door and walking past him in his white shirt, she slowly lowered herself onto the bed. Again she closed her eyes as he wordlessly cleaned and re-bandaged her wounds. Her eyes opened as he rummaged in his first aid kit again and pulling out another vial of morphine and a clean needle. 

 

“Ready?” he asked. More tears silently ran down her face as she nodded in consent, the needle pushed into her right arm, letting the drug run through her veins.

 

He looked at her face, and placed his hand on her head, “Sleep”. 

 

She turned her back to him on the soft white bed and closed her eyes. Before he himself settled next to her for sleep, he placed a glass of water and two pills on the bedstand next to her - to help her sleep when she awoke. 

 

Little did he know that she would lie in his bed, sleeping, crying, and screaming for nearly two weeks. The first day he stayed in his flat, working from his office, peering into the room just to make sure the girl still lived and to place a plate of food on the bedstand next to her. It would lay untouched all day. She slept. Again he worked, answering phone calls, scanning through his email. In it, multiple unopened messages caught his eye. The top two reading, 

 

_“Findings?”_   The other, _“A shame, not too much involvement I hope?”_ he only scanned them,  _I will answer later. More… pressing things to attend too_. Again, he checked on her and again, the scene remained unchanged.

 

The second day he went to work, locking the windows and doors so she wouldn’t be able to sneak out or kill herself. Knives too, they had been hidden. A phone had been placed on the bedstand, along with another plate of food, and a note, his phone number scrawled across it with the words _call me when you awake_. His phone would not ring with that number, not once in those two weeks. 

 

But things would change. Little things. Three days in he found an emptied cup of tea in his sink, and another day, his remote for the tv had been moved from his desk in the office to the small leather couch next to it. During this time she said little, she would pick at the plate of food next to the bed and when he would come home from a long night of work, the pills he would have laid on the counter in the morning would be gone - the glass of water drained...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They speak in the aftermath. A little window into Sansas' pain and Petyrs... something.

Until two weeks later… 

 

She did not care who could hear her sobs over the running water in the shower, but only one person would ever hear them. He sat in a modern gray, wing-back chair, one elbow leaning on its arm - the other hand holding a glass of bourbon, the ice cubes long melted. He stared into the darkened room and listened to hear sobs. It had been only thirty minutes but it seemed to drag on for hours. 

 

He heard the shower faucet turn off He moved his head towards the door but made no move to open it - he would wait. he waited patiently, hearing the sound of rustling fabric, the running of the sink. 

 

As he got up to walk away, the door opened. Looking back he saw a tired young women leaning her head against the door frame, wrapped in another one of his collared shirts, her eyes closed. He went to set his drink on a side table and stepped right in front of her. She looked up and stared into his eyes. All he could think of that behind her gaze of immeasurable sadness that he was mesmerized by how blue they were. He noticed the long dark lashes and the perfectly arched eyebrows, her high cheek bones and full lips through the yellowing bruises and the pink remnants of her cuts. He felt his gaze had held for too long and spoke. 

 

“Hello Sansa”. 

 

She had looked up into this mans eyes, wondering why he had picked her from off the blood soaked floor of her now dead-families home, place her in the back of his car and drive her away from all of it. To care for her, clean her wounds, abide her screams and sobs, all for two weeks. All without asking or wanting of anything - _yet._ As her mind raced he took in his features, his dark hair flecked with gray, his beard, and his eyes. Green and grey. As if to break focus she blinked several times and took a step back. He had not noticed how close he had gotten to her. He could feel the warmth radiating off her body. 

 

“Hello Petyr.”

 

He was surprised by the directness of her greeting. More silence passed and she broke in a tired voice “…this is…?”

 

“This is my home” 

 

“And why am I here?”

 

“- Because you will be safe here”

 

She choked at this and gave a short laugh, the first laugh he had ever heard come from her mouth. “I will be safe no where, Petyr. You should know that, don’t you _always_ know?” 

 

There was something biting behind her words. 

 

She walked right past him through the bedroom doorway, and down the hallway to the sitting area. He could hear her sit down, on the leather arm-chair he thought. 

 

He followed and as he had guessed, she had placed herself in a leather arm-chair. Her long legs crossed, her eyes closed and her head leaning against the back of her chair. 

 

She could not be bothered by the view of Kings Landing from where she sat, the twinkling lights, the commerce and activity going on below. 

 

He walked into his kitchen and asked off-handedly; “would you like a drink?” 

 

“Something strong please”. 

 

Opening his cupboards he grabbed two fine cut glasses and a bottle of scotch _a very nice one he thought to himself_. Before he left the kitchen he went to the fridge and grabbed a handful of ice-cubes, placing a few in each glass. 

 

She could hear the clinking behind her but had no desire to turn and see the activity going on behind her, though she very much wanted to stare at Petyr. 

 

He could hear him sink into the couch next to the chair, the clinking of the glasses and bottle being set on the glass coffee table. The pop of a cork and the sound of liquid over ice. At that moment she decided to open her eyes and face him. 

 

He looked at her intently and with a slight shove placed the glass in her lap. The cold ice through the cotton of the shirt startled her so, she lifted the glass to her lips and drank. It burned and warmed her, stinging at her hoarse throat. 

 

He watched her creamy neck lean back, her blue eyes shut, her back curve forward ever so slightly, trying not to focus on the fact he could see her nipples as they pressed against his shirt. He didn’t even seem to notice her fading bruises anymore.

 

She sat up straight and coughed into the sleeve. At the harshness of the alcohol. He snapped back into focus. Again she stared, 

 

“All of them?” She wanted to confirm and he nodded. 

 

She looked away, another set of tears running down her face. 

 

“Why were you even there?” she choked, her voice curious and tinged with disgust. 

 

“Word travels fast in this little world of ours and I went to see what _and who_ might be left… It is in my interest to know these things Sansa” 

 

“…Whatever… it’s all disgusting.” She almost said it under her breath, though as the last word left her mouth she stared right into his eyes. He did not flinch. 

 

“One never thinks it will happen to you and yours do they?” As he said those piercing words she looked at him and slowly shook her head, as if to remind herself.

 

As she took another drink he took another opportunity to look at her. _Exquisite_ was the only word that came to his mind. Her long legs gave way to her soft hips, her small waist and large breasts. As she leaned back for another drink, she had a solemn and quiet grace he would have not expected. 

 

Sansa knew why her family had been murdered. They had been full of pride and careless in the months leading up to their murder. They had thought with the past support of Robert Baratheon they were untouchable. How quickly it had all come undone in the past year, the in-fighting, the threats, the broken truces, all of it had led to that moment. A moment she would try to push away from her mind. 

 

And why had he picked her up when all the pieces had fallen?  

 

Of course she knew of Petyr, mostly the whispers and rumors. Like all of the powerful families, he dealt in trading, drugs, real-estate, gambling, and  _whoring -_ at least she knew her family had never traded in bodies. Unlike the other families, he did it all himself. But unlike all the other families, he may have done it the best, secretive, and always behind the scenes, he never thought it necessary to play out in the open as the others did. He was always there to pick up behind them, for a price, for silence, for bribes, for money, and for power. That is what he got when he walked in behind everyone and all the messes that they made. All she could think was why Petyr simply had decided to pick her up  _save_ her.

 

She had finished her glass and set it down, with a light nod he refilled it. As she took the glass she looked out in front of her and looked at the city below them. 

 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” His voice had startled her, she had been left with her own thoughts and he had not minded staring at her, looking her up and down. 

 

“Yes, yes it is… how long have you lived here?” She gave way into small talk, trying to keep her mind off what had happened. 

 

Trying to convince herself it wasn’t real.

 

“A couple years - though I find I never take time to enjoy it”. 

 

“Well what do you enjoy Petyr?” 

 

Again, her directness surprised him. 

 

“Everything _Sansa_ ” He flashed a smile and she couldn’t help but stare at him, noting his features. 

 

She thought back to all the whispers the one thing she hadn’t heard anyone say was that he was handsome… _why hadn’t anyone mentioned that_? She suddenly felt dizzy from the alcohol and set the glass down with a loud clank on the table. She placed her hands to her head and leaned back. 

 

“Petyr… I am done, and tired”. 

 

With that she quickly rose, though not fast enough for him to grab her arm and help her up. She looked up at him and quickly turned away, walking towards his bedroom. She fell into the white bed, her red hair pooling all over the pillow. The softness of the bed hugged her curves and limbs. Petyr suddenly had an urge to climb on top of her and begin kissing her neck, gently kiss her healing lips. Instead he walked straight into the washroom and shut the door, leaning against it once it had closed, rubbing his hands on his face as if to shake himself of this strange feeling. He had watched her sleep and writhe in his bed the past few weeks, feeling little pity but something deeper. He watched her sleeping face as the cuts had closed up and the bruises darkening, finally fading away. He had spent too much time staring and thinking.

 

He walked over to the sink and turning on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. 

 

Opening the door, Petyr walked out and saw her asleep, wrapped in the sheets, her arms laying above her. As he walked past the head she heard her moan for a moment and looking over, she moves her hips and rubs her right leg on the sheets. He looked away and quietly shut the door. 

 

Walking past the living room and kitchen he opened the door to another windowed room, his office. Setting himself in the chair, Petyr clicked one of keys on his laptop - the screen brightening and starting up. He rose to grab his glass of scotch from the sitting area. He had not finished his drink. 

 

The computer had started up. Petyr begins pulling up the news and his email. The TV lights up, news headlines rolling across the screen _“Alleged crime family the Starks found murdered in family home - 6 dead; oldest daughter missing, possible abduction. Several crime families may be implicated.”_ He scanned the article, noting the pictures of the Stark family,Lannister family, and the Tyrells, out. Everyone in fine suits, shaking hands, smiling.

 

_How things change_

 

He leaned into his chair and continued reading, flipping to other news sources, seeing what facts had been picked up and what had been missed at this time. _It's still far too early, though they will probably drop it. One less family for the cops to worry about. They will find Sansa soon enough, good thing another red-head has died in the past two weeks, thank you Spider. And good thing Petyr had paid off a cop for them say it was her… case closed._

 

He thought about what had transpired between the families over the past few months and what had happened over the past year. Alliances had gotten rocky since the death of Robert, the girl had even been engaged to the oldest son years earlier, but he had dumped her fast when the Tyrell family jumped in to offer their assistance and throw their money into the fray. Or so thats how it had played out for the most part. Though he had not pulled the trigger himself, he had heard whisperings and had done nothing. He had let it all play out in front of him, with only brief meetings with the Tyrell families head, Olenna. Their whispers and conniving and scheming. He had no _direct_ part in their murders, but like everyone else, it was _indirect._ No one had stepped in to save them from the Lannister’s, it would have been suicide. Though the Starks might have stepped in to save another family, it was only because of their sense of pride. It had undone them, unable to act first - they had gone down. 

 

He flipped between his email, phone, and the news until the clock read 2:45… time to walk into that room again. 

 

Slipping through the door, he stripped down into his boxers and crawled into bed, leaving enough distance between himself and Sansa. For a second the thought of putting his hands all over her while she slept crossed his mind but he did nothing.

 

He was awoken to the sound of her screams and sobbing ringing n his head, as he had done multiple nights before. But there was nothing but silence and dim light streaming through the shades. Looking over, he was surprised she had slept throughout the night, though the sheets were crumpled all around her. She must have been exhausted over their first conversation and the scotch may have assisted in her sleeping. He rolled back over and to sleep. 

 

Sansa awoke, jolting out of bed. Forgetting her surroundings again, she had to cover her mouth to muffle her sobs once the reality sunk in again. More tears. She turned to Petyr sleeping, shocked he hadn’t heard her - though it wouldn’t have been the first time she had cried while someone had slept next to her, _she was well taught_. Sansa composed herself and looked down, looking at the soft white sheets, seeing herself clothed in another one of his dress shirts. For the first time she pulled the collar to her face and smelled it. Musk, amber, lime, mint. It smelled good, it smelled like him. 

 

Sansa began inspecting the room - the soft grey armchair in the corner. The mirror to her right, next to washroom door, the rich teak doors in front of her, leading to the closet. Finally the window to her left, the view showing the city as it seemed to stretched out for miles it. 

 

She then looked to the sleeping form on her right. Muscled shoulders and back, his body rising slightly as he breathed in and out. His face seemed peaceful, and soft, not the devious and hardened face she had first seen. He looked to be in his late thirties. She stared and her face grew red as she looked Petyr up and down. 

 

Wishing to not find herself staring, Sansa gently lifted her legs off the bed and rose, stretching her arms high above her head and arching her back as she stared out the window. She flinched as her arms touched. She unbuttoned the top of the shirt, pulling it down to inspect her injuries and did the same to the other side, again seeing it covered in bruises. All she could do was stare. 

 

Sansa did not know she was being watched. He had awoken to the slight shifting in his bed and opened one of his eyes, he had looked over as she stretched and recoiling as her arms rose. He saw her unbutton her shirt and pull it down to expose her soft pale back and shoulders as she inspected her body and its current state. 

 

“Morning” she jumped at his words and flinched as he was sure her arms pained her. 

 

She turned and looked at him… first four buttons undone, her rumpled wavy hair, cut bluntly and grazing her shoulders, and falling over one of her eyes. He took her all in that moment, her long legs exposed, her collarbone, the soft curves that would round into her breasts. On top of that, her red hair and deep blue eyes. He raised himself onto his elbows, wanting to say something as he was blatantly staring, lips slightly opened - but decided against it. 

 

“You startled me, sorry”, he responded, “It is alright… did you sleep?” as he spoke she looked down and buttoned up the shirt. 

 

“As well as one can” saying it more to herself than to Petyr laying in bed. 

 

He quickly rose and she was shocked by his near nudity, taking it in fully for the first time. She had lain with boys her own age, but they seemed soft in comparison of what was standing in front of her. She looked away as he put on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, as she saw him pull a shirt over his head she saw a long white scar and looked away. Sansa suddenly felt very undressed. He looked over and walking into his closet came out with box. Placing it in her hands with a small smile, he turned and walked out of the room. She opened it to find several items, the first being a simple silky black-shift dress. She set the box down and pulled the dress over her shoulders, finding the cardigan of his she had been wearing over the past few weeks and also put it on - to cover her bruised and beaten arms.

 

While she had been fidgeting with her clothes he had left the room for the kitchen. She walked out and found him making coffee. While he seemed to be busying himself, she finally took a chance to inspect the flat within she had been living.

 

The walls where high, a soft creamy taupe, with one or two walls painted in a contrasting charcoal. The black chair she had sat in last night had been placed perpendicular to the squared and low-backed modular creamy colored sofa. The walls had little art, mostly abstract and dark hard woods ran throughout the flat. The sitting area had a thick shag rug and a glass coffee table sitting on it. Her glass from the night before and the half-empty bottle of scotch were the only things present on the table. 

 

The kitchen was in the same style as the sitting area, neutral tiles contrasting against dark walls and cabinets. Stainless steel appliances _of course_. The only things on the counter were a large bowl of fruit and a black espresso machine. 

 

She walked over to the kitchen island and sat on one of the stools, the seats looked to be cut from a large piece of driftwood with solid wooden legs. A mug was placed in front of her. 

 

“I do love your place - have loved it… though it is quite _empty_ ” she brought the cup to her lips as he smiled in response, “I like it that way”

 

Peter made breakfast for the two of them, just some eggs and fresh fruit. he noted it was the first time she had actually dined with him and emptied her plate. More small talk ensued, again, Sansa tried not to think about her dead family laying on the floor of their home. 

 

He got up from the dining room table to make himself another espresso. The only sound she could hear was the whistling of the machine. He sat down again - and they stared at each other in silence. As she had been prone in the past couple weeks her mind wandered, Sansa hadn’t questioned her current situation - knowing the less she knew her now the better. It wasn’t that Petyr was a total stranger, just another line in the web that had been her life until now - a part in that the families had all floated in and out of each other lives, working together, conniving together, _killing together_. She had even played her own part - it was just what you did. The family all working together towards more wealth and power. 

 

Sansa snapped back to the present, “Petyr… what are you going to do with me?” she knew enough about Petyr to know nothing was done without a price.

 

He smirked at the red-head, sad and alone, sitting across from him at the table. 

 

“Sansa… please, trust me. Things will present themselves when you are ready. For the time being, you are safe while you are here with me, while you are by my side, or inside these walls…Unless… you decide to fuck me over… then that, will change.”

 

“What would fall under fucking you over Petyr?” She said in a low whisper. 

 

“Please do not worry, I just don’t want to come home and find all my money has been stolen or to find you fucking on my couch” he raised an eyebrow. 

 

“… Unless its you?” Peter laughed. 

 

“Let us not move ahead too quickly, Sansa, I do not expect you to fuck to earn your keep”

 

“Then what am I to do?” she looked at him deeply; longingly in that instant. 

 

She seemed to look through him. 

 

“When the time presents itself… for now, please heal and get well” His words were sweet, but tinged with the sense it was more of a request. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot will thicken I promise. Just getting things warmed up. 
> 
> Please comment and thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr lays it out, seeing if Sansa will accept his... terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy and thank you!

She did not feel as trapped as she should have. It was a prison - yet, albeit, a luxurious one. She did not get to leave the house and found herself in some kind of strange inter-dependent routine with Petyr. He left in the middle of the morning, though he awoke early to work in his office. They would breakfast in near silence, Sansa peppering their encounters with little questions. Petyr doing the same. Once breakfast was done, he would leave for work - not to return till one or two in the morning. By then, she was usually asleep, though Sansa would awake to have a drink or smoke with him on the patio once he was home; afterwards she would go back to bed, Petyr following closely behind her. 

 

He never touched her while awake, though she had awoken to him gripping her hip, or to find them laying closer than when they had fallen sleep. She even smiled. Sansa refused to think of her parents and with a combination of sleeping, pain medication, reading, and her brief interactions with Petyr she managed to push it away from her head. She had avowed that it was another life, another time and for her to move on. She would close them away, deep inside her until she forgot. She was forcing it to work. Sansa had no other choice, she was to live for them, and to destroy those who had killed them and the person she had been before all of this. She was no longer the girl she had been only weeks ago. 

 

 _She had healed wonderfully_ he thought. A month and a half had passed. They were on his patio, having their usual nightcap. The bruises were gone and the cut on her face had faded to a slight pink line. A small scar. She was staring into the heart of the city, the wind blowing around her face and hair. She had even been awake when he walked through the door and was dressed this evening. For the past month and a half she worn a uniform of sorts - a black nightie that he had been purchased for her. Sansa was uncaring of how it showed off her breasts and legs and how she caught him staring often. This new hardened women did not care - and she relished in it. Tonight she was in a tight pair of black high-rise jeans and a white tee shirt she had tucked it in, allowing him to see her small waist and perky tits. She was even wearing a black bra underneath it, again, uncaring of his glances. He took another draw from his cigarette when she looked towards him, still leaning against the railing. 

 

“Petyr… can we sit and talk?” 

 

He was sitting and envisioned her in that moment, walking over to him and straddling him. Whispering into his ear while she kissed his neck, one hand running through his hair, and the other pulling his shirt up. All while he crushed her against him, a sigh sneaking out of her lips. 

 

“Petyr?” 

 

“Yes?” he was pulled from his fantasy. 

 

She was sitting crossed-legged across from him. 

 

“I think its time you put me to work.” 

 

For a second he thought again of how it would feel with her thighs pressing against his. 

 

“I’m glad you asked Sansa..” She eyed him.

 

He leaned back, “well first, what can you do?” 

 

“Before…this…” she waved her hand, “I worked for my family”. 

 

“Spending their money” he said with a smirk. A rare laugh escaped her.

 

“You piece of shit… I was working with Stark Development and its real estate funds… adding, subtracting… cleaning up the adding mostly” she grinned as she took a sip from the drink she had placed on the table. 

 

He was laughing in disbelief. 

 

“I am serious Petyr, I went to school for finance and accounting” She yelled, trying to speak over his condescending laughter. 

 

He quickly calmed himself. She continued. 

 

“I worked there for two years, ‘functioning’ as the office manager, I saw all the funds come in before accounting did, I shuffled it all around to make to legit. Our accountant had no clue.” 

 

He stared at her, his mind racing, thinking, plotting. The next steps to take, where and how she might fit into all of this. What it would mean for him and all that he had built around himself. He continued to stare and took another drink slowly, before setting it down on the table. 

 

“Let me think this through sweetling.” 

 

With that he rose, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. 

 

“Goodnight”

 

She awoke to find the bed empty as she usually did and rose, wrapping herself in the bathrobe she had found him wearing after a shower several days ago. She liked how it felt, and smelled. 

 

Though unlike every other morning since she had been living with Petyr, Sansa found him sitting at the dining room table. He ran his fingers over the top of his coffee mug, a small pile of items laying on the table in front of him. When he looked up at the sound of her footsteps she blushed when their eyes met. He said nothing about the robe but she could tell he got great pleasure seeing her wrapped in it. She sat down across from him. 

 

“Hello” 

 

He smiled. 

 

“Sansa, good morning. Please listen, I have been thinking…  do wait till I have finished for your comments _which_ I am sure there will be many” again, he continued to smile, looking straight at Sansa. 

 

“First things first, Sansa Stark is dead.” She did not blink at the frankness of this words. She knew that while her body remained, legally Sansa was no more and she no longer wanted her to be. She wanted to wipe it all away.

 

“So, I have created a new identity for you, just the basics have been completed such as identification. The various other documents to give you some sense of past such as, a university degree, medical records, credit history, school immunizations, every little thing. those will follow in about a week. Your new identity is Alayne, and… you are my new wife”.

 

He waited to see if she would yell out, but she said nothing, _good girl_. 

 

“Now do not worry, though we will be married _legally_ it will only be on paper, nothing will change between us”. Sansa did not believe him. 

 

“I have been neglecting my work for the past few months and in a way… a new bride makes quite the excuse. We will also work together. You can assist with my affairs at my club, the Mockingbird. Besides being by my side while at the club, no one will harm you. Legally, it will offer you other protections… I know many important people and their vices keep my bank accounts very full. In short, no one touches what is _mine_.”

 

“So I am yours?” she finally spoke, quietly. 

 

“On paper, yes. But as I said, we can go on with our current situation behind closed doors” 

 

“But _right now_. how you phrased it is so finite Petyr.” 

 

He quickly shot back, “Because it is. This is what I offer, take it or leave it. Protection, safety, _comfort_ is what I offer you Sansa, and I can, in abundance.” 

 

“But even though we aren’t fucking now, if you caught me, you threatened me with…”

 

“Lets not think of that right now, realize, I will give you a salary from your time at the Mockingbird on top of whatever else a husband may gift his beautiful wife with…” 

 

As he said that, he pushed an envelope over to her, a small velvet box sitting on top of it. Gently pushing the box away, she opened the envelope and pulled out the item in it. an ID, her name written across it _Alayne Baelish._ Her age was still 25, though the birthday had been changed. Address, identification number, also changed, there was no photo on the ID yet either.

 

Setting it down on the table she picked up the small box. It creaked open exposing an intricate diamond ring, a beautiful pillow cut diamond framed by smaller square-cut diamonds. The large diamond in the middle was tinged yellow. Sansa had always thought about this moment, well, the girl named Sansa once did, often. She thought of the tears, the ring, the man. Right now they all didn’t match. Surprisingly, this new women hadn’t given it a thought, _Alayne_ hadn’t given it a thought. As she continued to stare at the ring his voice brought her back. 

 

“Do you like it?” 

 

“I do… _Alayne Baelish_ loves it”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like I mentioned, had it all typed out in advance. So will post a few more chapters and then release them slowly - build tension if you will. 
> 
> Things start to get a little more complicated for Sansa/Alayne...

With this new life presented it to her, Sansa took it. They walked down the street and Petyr had taken her hand as they walked side by side, she could feel the weight of the ring on her finger. Peter had also purchased himself one, just a simple silver band. His grip was strong and she squeezed back, Petyr pretended not to notice. Stopping in front of a salon, he opened the door and led her inside. It was empty. Two people waited at the front desk. 

 

“Hello you two, I am pleased to present the newly minted Alayne Baelish… she is needing the royal treatment”. The man and women stepped forward laughing and clapping, all while pulling her further into the salon. 

 

As she walked away he heard him say, “Be back in a couple hours sweetling.” 

 

She had been placed in a chair, a cape thrown over her shoulders all while she felt her hands being pulled. 

 

“Hello, I am Carlos, it is lovely to meet the wife of Petyr finally” he winked. 

 

“And I am Ginny” she heard the women say as she pulled all types of manicurists tools towards her. 

 

“ _You are beautiful my dear! A true masterpiece”_ Carlos smiled. 

 

“Today my dear, it looks as if I have to give you a new look… I love the lob, We’ll just give it a trim. I do have explicit instructions to change the hair color though… a pity” he said as he ran his fingers through her red hair. 

 

The chair was turned away from the mirror. Sansa could see nothing. 

 

Hours later she found herself staring at Alayne and she was a dark-haired fox. Dark glossy chocolate brown hair framed her face with darkened and perfectly arched eyebrows, her eyes framed by her lashes colored to match her hair. They had done her make-up, a perfect cat eye with full pink lips, highlighted and blushed cheekbones. Sansa even went as much as to touch the mirror, pulling her hands back to see the perfect emerald green, near black manicured fingers. The diamond ring back on her finger. She was one step closer to being Alayne. _Good._ She thought. 

 

Petyr was talking to Carlos as she walked towards him, stopping right in front of him doing a little turn. She had left his house in her black shift dress and black booties - all gifts from Petyr. Before they had left the house she had grabbed one of his belts and tightened it around her waist, again, showing off her curves - knowing he would stare. 

 

“Look at you, my love - you are a vision” Petyr smiled. With that he pulled her face towards him and kissed her open mouth. 

 

She felt his beard tickle her chin, she felt his soft lips and smelt the mint on his breath. Instead of recoiling in shock she leaned into him and closed her eyes. When they released he expertly kept one of his hands on her hip. His hand was on fire. Her heart burned. 

 

He opened the door for her and they stepped outside, parked in front was his Aston Martin. She stopped and stared as he rounded to the drivers side. 

 

“Alayne!” he called. 

 

It took her another moment to register he was speaking to her. She saw his devious smile as she placed her bag from the salon in the back seat and lowered herself into the car. 

 

“Quite the show” he smirked as they pulled away.

 

She said nothing. 

 

“But really, you do look amazing. Out of a dream” She blushed and said nothing, just watching the buildings pass by as they sped through the city. 

 

They had finally come to a stop and the door was opened for her. Sansa stepped out to find herself facing the finest department store in Kings Landing, every designer sold their clothes within it’s walls. 

 

He gently led her inside, opening every door, and firmly intertwining his fingers with hers. A lovely saleswomen greeted them and led them through the crowds to the displays of clothes Sansa had only seen in Vogue. Petyr seated himself at a chair and was handed a glass of champagne. Sansa was also given a glass all while she was pulled deeper into the luxury department. She stopped, the personal shopper looked at her. 

 

“Miss, your husband wants you to pick out whatever you want, a belated wedding gift he said. Let me show you…” 

 

“Thank you but..” she cut the women off. 

 

“I know what I want.” 

 

The women smiled at her. 

 

Every dress she wanted Sansa could have it. She modeled only the shortest and most fitted items in front of Petyr, watching his eyes darken with desire as she would look back and walk to the dressing room, giggling. 

 

The items would be delivered that night, the items to be delivered were two Balmain dresses and a beautiful Armani red jumper. Soft silken tops, a pair of real leather pants that looked as if they had been painted on. A Chanel clutch, a Celine’ handbag. Soft woolen coats and cashmere jumpers. Dresses and rompers. Jewelry and shoes to match in all colors and styles. Sansa was almost Alayne Baelish. 

 

As they drove back to the flat, she noticed how tightly Petyr griped the wheel. She said nothing, she knew he was fuming, not from the lavish spending but from the show she had put on. Modeling the dresses, laughing with the sales associate, at one point she had even seated herself in his lap, Petyr was eager but his inability to act on his desires had made him irritable. 

 

He was silent in the lift, walking down the hallway, and even as he opened and closed the door he was quiet. Sansa tried not to let the silence eat at her. As she walked towards the bedroom Petyr grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. She felt herself crushed against him and in a moment she was pressed against the wall. His lips meeting hers, kissing her neck. His hands sliding up her thigh. 

 

Though she stopped Petyrs hands from going up her dress, she welcomed his kiss. It was firm and he almost seemed to suck the air out her mouth. As she heard him groan, she pulled away from him. She looked into his green eyes and they seemed to be on fire. He leaned back and spoke into her ear;

 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said with desire tinged with anger, Petyr continued to kiss her, leaving a trail down her mouth and throat. 

 

She pushed away again.

 

“Only trying to play the part” She whispered breathlessly. 

 

“Oh yes” he laughed, “and quite the actress you are sweetling”

 

He released her and walked calmly towards his office and as he reached the door, he heard her say with a hint of longing, “It wasn’t all acting Petyr.” Before turning around to face Sansa again, she had opened and shut the patio door. 

 

He saw her light a cigarette and lean against the railing as she took a draw from it. He went into his office and shut the door. 

 

 _Gods!_ How he wanted to scream. Instead he sat in his desk chair and folded his arms and leaned his head back with a long exhale. _Control._

 

Outside the wind cooled her, she took another puff of her cigarette and sat herself in one of the patio chairs, resting her feet on the chair Petyr usually occupied. Her heart still burned and beat fast. While she rested the smoke between her ring and index finger her hands ran up and down her legs. _The legs Petyr’s hands had been all over… and how good it felt._ She hated herself for the shivers running up and down her body, hating the fact she lusted after this man. While he was giving her a life after all of this, better than she had ever imagined. His sense of ownership weighed heavily on her. _Fuck._

 

The evening passed with them a distance apart, though when her packages from the store were delivered she did shriek for joy and kissed him on the cheek. Instinctively he had grabbed her waist. 

 

One side of the closet had already been cleared earlier that morning for her things and she found herself pulling the tags from every item, gently hanging them in the closet - by color. As Petyr had done with his suits and shirts. While his side was all blacks, grays, dark greens and blues. Sansa’s side, though filled with black, color seemed to saturate many of the items and most of her shoes. 

 

Even a jewelry box had been purchased and was placed on the table near the arm chair. She filled it with all the items Petyr had bought her. How they all glittered, nestled in the box. The only other item in the room that may have connoted a female presence was a single bottle of perfume she had left on the counter. A new scent, rich with musk, jasmine, powder, with a hint of sandalwood. it was how she imagined Alayne would want to smell. 

 

Petyr had been conducting business for the past few hours, pushing her out of his mind when he heard a knock as the door creaked open. 

 

“Petyr?” 

 

“Yes?” He sounded impatient but she walked through the door and shut it behind her, leaning against it the wood. She was in one of her new dresses. a black silk dress that hung off her shoulders, Vertical stripes of sheer fabric exposed strips of bare abdomen and her legs at the bottom of the pleated skirt. she wore no jewelry except her ring which caught the little bit of light in the room and sparkled, her feet in deep pink pointed heels. She was beautiful. 

 

“Petyr I have all these lovely things you bought me and I have yet to show them off… lets go to dinner” she mused. 

 

As he mulled over her request she walked towards him and leaned in, her face inches away from his. He smelled jasmine and sandalwood. She smelled mint. They stared deep into each other eyes, drinking in the other. He rose from his chair and placed his hands on her bare shoulders. She did not shrink from his touch. 

 

“Of course sweetling, I can deny you nothing” She didn’t know if he meant it or if it was in jest.

 

As the words left his mouth he knew it was becoming true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you are enjoying it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, a thimbleful of smut. 
> 
> Petyr and Sansa lose themselves in character. It's on now...

After dinner they walked back to the flat, his jacket placed over her shoulders, his hand around her waist. Two bottles of wine had been consumed and Sansa found herself blushed and giggling. Even Petyr allowed himself to feel a hint of the wine take effect. In the restaurant, people had turned their heads to stare as they walked past their tables. Petyr seemed accustomed to the treatment, but Sansa found it exhilarating. She loved how they all stared. At Petyr, handsome in his attire - a grey suit jacket, white shirt and black trousers, and her, how beautiful she felt in her luxurious clothes. The waiter had laughed as they were being seated and asked if Sansa was a model, she blushed and said no, just a newlywed. Petyr stared at her, his eyes dark with desire.

 

In the lift up to his flat Sansa leaned against the cool metal wall. Petyr leaned his hand on the wall, next to her head, his other hand toying with the hem of her dress - all while looking deep into her eyes, he couldn’t look away. They were almost touching. As they walked to the door of the flat her breath felt heavy, she burned for his touch. The door opened and shut. With the two of them inside, time seemed to slow down. 

 

Sansa leaned down and took of her shoes uncaring of where they fell, she let his jacket fall from her bare shoulders. As she stood up she stepped closer to Petyr, gently tugging at his shirt collar and slowly stepping backwards. With a few more steps her back was now against the wall where they had been earlier. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his. She felt as if she was dying, as if she would orgasm just from his stare - before he even laid his hands on her. Their faces were almost touching. Suddenly she let go of his collar, and brushed past him, slowly walking towards the bedroom as if in a daze. She felt him behind her as they walked, feeling as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, feeling her body heat, her desire. She stopped right in front of the bed they stood in silence for a moment, nothing but amorous, slow breathing.

 

“Petyr?” She managed to say, her voice seemed deep and breathy. He froze, his body seemed to ache and vibrate, almost in a moan she whispered

 

“…can you unzip my dress?”. 

 

He felt pained as his muscles were tense in their resolve not to throw her on the bed and fuck her in that expensive dress. He took a deep breath and obeyed. She felt his burning hand on her shoulder, the other hand grip her zipper and tug. A little gasp of pleasure escaped her lips as she felt his hand run down her naked back.

 

The control in which he touched her burning skin, while he slowly unzipped her dress to reveal her white back was one he had never exerted in such a situation as this. The dress fell and she was left in her lace bra and knickers. Another one of his gifts. She turned towards him slowly and he felt a gentle kiss on his neck, her moist desirous breath. her body leaning into his. After months of control and from these few moments he broke.

 

He pushed her onto the bed and found himself on top of her, pawing at her bra and hearing the delicate fabric tear. Sansa leaned up and seemed to wrap her legs around him pulling him close to her as she unbuttoned his shirt. Their kisses were frantic, passionate and deep. Once he had managed to pull of his shirt he felt her hands unbuckle his belt and trousers, pulling them down in a frenzy. while one hand was wrapped around her back, crushing her into him, another hand reached down to feel her burning sex. At his touch he heard her moan, his hand went deeper, _Gods, he would melt from her heat, the wetness_. Again she gasped and moaned into his ear, he felt her muscles contract. They unlocked for a moment, frantically puling of the rest of the clothes they wore. 

 

She laid beneath him, her eyes dark with desire, her thighs spread allowing him to lean in. With one hand, his hand slowly traveled to her neck, collarbone, her breasts and hips. Her eyes closed, her face flushed. As his hand wandered over her naked form, he took the moment to absorb what may happen next, to take in her soft curves, perfect breasts, soft skin. The movement of worship over her naked body ended. He entered her. The softness, the wetness, her heat made him shiver and groan out loud. He slid in and out of her, she pressed her hips into his, allowing him to go deeper. They moved together. With one strong thrust, Sansa arched her back, nails digging into his arms. 

 

“Gods, Petyr!” She yelled, before bringing her hands down to clutch the sheets below her. 

 

“Oh god, harder, fuck!” she let out in a gasp. 

 

He was more than happy to oblige and continued driving deep into her. Petyr was covered in sweat, he burned and felt as if he would release any second. 

 

Within an instant she pulled away from him and dislodged herself, pushing him against the headboard. He felt as if he had stopped breathing for a moment as she straddled his thighs and kissed him deeply while she shivered with desire, pressing her sex into his groin. She leaned her breasts into his damp chest as she guided him into her. He gripped her hips tightly as she moved, moaning and panting into his ear. 

 

“I am going to cum" she whispered as she quickened her pace.

 

Petyr gripped her harder, driving her deeper into him. Her muscles seemed to spasm and with a groan and strong exhale he felt his seed spill deep in her. With her own release she arched her back one last time. Breathing heavily they both clung to each other, slicked with sweat, Petyr still inside of her. Though she still burned for his touch it would have to wait for another time. 

 

He wrapped his arms around her again pulling Sansa to him, to kiss her open mouth. 

 

Leaning against the headboard she put a cigarette to her lips, drawing her breath and exhaling, smoke wafting in front of her face. Petyr stared, watching her take a drag, her lips wrapped around the filter - watching as her eyes closed when she exhaled smoke, almost as if she was kissing the air. The sheets were wrapped around her middle. His cigarette was a cylinder of ash, he tapped it on the cup he had placed between them. Again, silence. Her head was tilted back, a small smile on her lips. She quickly snuffed out her cigarette and picked up the ash tray - setting it on the night stand. 

 

Turning towards him Sansa rotated her hips and leaned towards his face, placing both her hands on his thighs. He kept staring into her darkened face, her beautiful blue eyes, not saying a word. She plucked the cigarette from between his fingers and set it in the cup. When she turned back to him, her lips touched his, her kiss deepening. He pulled her closer, feeling her naked breasts pressed again him, his hands on her smooth back, causing her to shiver. She pulled away and as he pulled her back in she wrapped her arms around him, touching her forehead to his. She was staring into him, so much so Petyr had to look away for a second and refocus. 

 

He felt emotionally and physically spent. Sansa had control over him all without saying a word. He thought about the sex, how their desire burned slowly, before the gates had opened and their passion overtook them. Petyr wanted her as no women before. He felt that now he had a taste his hunger for her would never be sated. But, he must regain control of himself. He broke the silence. 

 

“What am I to do with you? I should keep you locked away here - all to myself” he said in a low growl, Sansa pulled away. 

 

“Wouldn’t you like that?” she said it playfully, but with a little malice behind it. “…You have me all to yourself Petyr, you made sure of that” She said, looking into her lap. 

 

 _True._ He thought. But he wanted it no other way. The thought of Sansa gasping at another mans touch made his eyes darken with jealousy. He looked away. He placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her in for a kiss. He spoke into her ear;

 

“Sweetling, do not think me so cruel. It is all to keep you safe - and why not have a little fun”. 

 

She gave a sarcastic laugh and sunk into the bed - laying her head in his lap, he rested his hand on Sansas hip. 

 

Petyr awoke early and decided to give her one more day before the _show_ began since her performance last night had been spectacular. Sansa was sound asleep, facing him, her hair spread over the pillow, her lips looking full and kissable. He resisted the temptation and rose. _Control_ had become his mantra.  

 

Though his flat was only a few blocks away from his establishment, he drove for the safety it provided. As he stopped at a light his eyes wandered to the silver wedding band around his ring finger and with thoughts of Sansa laying naked in his bed, Petyrs grip tightened on the wheel. _God_ , he wanted nothing more than to play with her all morning, make her cry out with desire, but work would not wait. She had been asleep when he had risen but she had been sitting up when he had walked out of the washroom. Her hair was deliciously rumpled and the sheets lay in her lap, her breasts exposed without any shame. She tilted her head and motioned for him to come to her. _Yes my lady, I am at your command._ He leaned down and she gave him a deep, sensual kiss. 

 

“Off to work _husband_?” he chuckled and looked at her with a smirk.

 

“Yes, my love. I have to go and get things prepared for your arrival.. I thought maybe today, but no, another day - my gift to you.” 

 

“Get things ready?“ 

 

“Yes, my office was for one, now it will be for two.” She smiled. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Petyr thinks back to meeting Sansa for the first time... maybe her memories are up next.
> 
> We are also introduced to the Mockingbird. Slightly shorter chapter?

Sansa had arisen when he was ready to walk out the door and had wrapped herself in another one of his shirts, making herself an espresso in the kitchen.

 

“Goodbye sweetling” he called.

 

She rang back, “goodbye Petyr” 

 

Back in the car, his mind wandered again, this time to his first real memory of her. 

 

The party had been at Robert Baratheon’s estate. The sprawling mansion was always full with guests but this time it had been a grand black tie affair. The Stark and Baratheon family had wanted to relish in their recent successes, amassing everyone involved around them to celebrate. They hadn’t hosted a party like this in years, the last being Joffery and Sansa’s engagement party. 

 

Even those behind the scenes like Petyr were asked to attend these fucking events, _these displays of wealth and power_. There were champagne and cocktails everywhere, laughter, music, waiters in black wandering around with little aperitifs on silver trays. Upon entering the house Robert had explained to every guest no one should leave hungry or sober. Everyone obeyed, Robert was king of his domain. 

 

Petyr had first noticed her because of the laughter and the exclamations of joy. She was dancing with Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon their arms all intertwined, both taking turns to kiss her on the cheek and dip her, all while kissing and playing with each other. He had first spotted the red hair and instantly recognized her as Cats daughter. 

 

Cat had never, and would never introduce them. He understood why. She was far more beautiful, and she appeared more carefree, brazen - _reckless_ then her mother had been at that age. She continued to laugh and leaped for joy when Loras’ sister, Margaery joined them in their playful gyrations and laughter. 

 

Others were dancing around them and no one seemed to mind or care the fours inhibition. At the change of the song she had broken away from the group and stepped up to the bar. Petyr turned away as she approached but could hear her over the sound of chatter and loud music;

 

“A glass of champagne please!” He heard the crystal clink on the counter while she thanked the bartender, he turned as she lifted the first glass to her lips to drink deeply. 

 

Her hair had been longer then and in rich waves, wearing a tight black dress past her knees, only held up by two thin straps on each shoulder, it cut low to show off her ample breasts. A vintage gold watch hung off her wrist and her long legs giving way to her leopard print heels. He turned away for he knew Cats eyes followed him from somewhere in the crowd, she always known to keep a close eye on her daughter. 

 

This one evening in particular he did not want to cause any trouble - it was always beneficial to observe and overhear, lay low, as much as he had desired to ask Sansa for a dance the second he had spotted her in the crowd. _Control._

 

Sansa had entered the room on the arm of her father earlier in the evening. Her mother Catlyn, trailed behind the two, all smiles as her arm rested on her oldest son, Robb. Robert and Cersei kissed Sansa on cheek upon her arrival, petting her and exclaiming how beautiful she looked, how good it was to see her. Joffery even came over to briskly say hello, it had been years since he had seen his ex-fiance, he had looked as if he was sucking on lemons, looking at her. Him and Margaery were already engaged, something he had rudely pointed out to Sansa upon their greeting. People had turned to stare at the commotion and excitedly began to whisper about Sansa, how beautiful she was, how she had finished university and had recently started working with her family, thus her attendance that evening.

 

At the bar, Petyr heard Renly and Loras’ voices as they grew closer, they had come to join her, to try and pull her away. 

 

“Come sweetheart” they both laughed. 

 

She smiled and set her empty champagne flute on the bar, draping her shoulders over each of the men as they walked off. Petyr saw the trio round the corner, _probably to do the coke I gave Renly earlier_. He smirked and sipped at his scotch. As he had turned back to the conversation to his right, he thought, _I must give Cat credit where credits due in keeping me away from Sansa. The women does know what I like - though she can’t keep her daughter away forever._ He looked up from this thoughts and found Vary’s staring at him, the others carrying on their conversation without the two, a strange look on the bald mans face. Petyr chose to think nothing of it.

 

Back to the present, the Mockingbird was quiet as he stepped through the doors, the employees wouldn’t be filtering in for a few more hours. The outside of the Mockingbird was a clean, white nondescript building. Nothing but a sign with a painted Mockingbird hanging connoted its existence as the hottest nightclub - _among other things,_ in town. 

 

Once you stepped through its doors, dark wooden floors in an interlocking chevron pattern ran throughout the entirety of the establishment. The curved ceiling reached high up to the second floor, where the VIP area overlooked the dance floor and the row of round leather booths that were on the right side of the club, each booth separated by partitions that reached up to the ceiling. Each partition made of small vertical rectangles of stained glass. A large glass orb fixture with a single dimmed lightbulb was encased within the glass hung that above each table. 

 

The bar itself was the centerpiece of the room, the backing was a single large carved antique from Dorne, the glass displaying the colorful bottles sitting on the polished wooden shelves. The bar counter themselves were of a rich black slate, separated by an arched doorway that led to the lift and washrooms. Along the left side of the establishment sat the DJ booth, raised and again partitioned with the same panels of colored glass. The dance floor was sunken into the floor and next to the DJ booth was a walkway to the bar and the stairs that led up to the VIP area. 

 

Petyr walked up the stairs as it led to the back area and his own office. The VIP area had its own private bar and was furnished with elegant tufted leather sofas, small tables and more glass partitions with velvet curtains for additional _privacy._ He walked through the set of double doors from the VIP area that opened into a low-lit hallway that ended with the lift doors. The hallway itself only had three doors. One with a key-code lock that led to the offices and the other two that led to the other part of his establishment - the rooms and sitting areas where the girls played and serviced his many clients. He did not go through those doors often, just enough to make sure things were run smoothly and it was clean.

 

He keyed in the code and heard the small click that allowed him to enter. Petyr walked up another small set of stairs that led to three more doors. One door that opened to the staff room, another to the managers office and then the double doors to his own office. He pulled out his key and with a turn the doors opened. The lights clicked on with his movement, his offices took up the entire forth floor and had the only windows looking out onto the street below. 

 

He could have lived up there, in fact, it housed a lavish apartment, though he had maybe slept there one or two times since owning the place. It was most often used to host his most privileged of guests and his business associates for it had an impressive kitchen, dining and sitting area. The office itself had another set of doors that held there own private stairwell that led to the back alley, to the club, and to the girls rooms. The office housed a small bar and a large table that made up his desk, piles of papers neatly stacked, a laptop sitting on the clean surface. The walls of the office were covered with horizontal shelves that ran the length of the room. Books, an impressive surveillance system and TV, along with a small safe and a few other items were the only things present on the shelves. 

 

He sat down at the chair in front of the Laptop and flicked it on, he also turned on the TV as well and dialed a number on his phone. Once the person on the other line answered he rattled off a list of items he would need, another laptop, tablet, a few more office supplies and a new office chair _for his wife,_ he would need them today. Asking them to charge it to his account and deliver it to the club, he thanked the person on the phone and hung up. 

 

Now that he was away from Sansa he could continue discussing the event and it’s aftermath with Cersei Lannister herself, the women liked to call about it at least once a day, to confirm everything was still fine. If it was after one, Cersei would probably be drunk, slurring her words. He also had a lunch scheduled with Vary’s, they had much to discuss and the bald man had been prying him with questions and off-handed remarks for two months. He might even stop by the Highgarden, to quietly meet with Olenna Tyrell before coming back to the club and the handling its day to day operations. Before engrossing himself in his work, his mind wandered back to Sansa and he felt a small surge of pain, and desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm really happy to get this out, I've been sitting on it a little too long.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa remembers Petyr.

After Sansa had showered, she gave in to doing some yoga - it had been months and she felt her muscles sigh and contract with the much needing stretching. _Back to the old routine._ Once the exercise was over she leaned against the cool marble counter in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, thinking back to the first time she had met Petyr.

 

After university, she had reunited with the gruesome twosome, Loras and Renly and even her friend Margaery, though not so much since Margaery herself was now engaged to Joffery. Him and Sansa had broken off their engagement ages ago. She didn’t hate Margaery for her choices. It was a small world they lived in and not enough young men in powerful families to align themselves with, _Joffery had been an abusive prick anyway_. Though Margaery had greater power over him than Sansa ever had, she could not be pulled away often, even by her own brother Loras. 

 

This night had been the exception. Back at Loras and Renly’s place, they had started the festivities early. Neat little lines of cocaine and pre-drink drinks covered their glass coffee table . There was laughter, joy, kissing, excitement. Sansa loved being back home. She had come back from Highgarden University a women in every sense of the word. Seductive, playful, _and_ like every women belonging to a family of an illicit nature, she came back hardened and secretive. During Uni, she even had had a fling with one of Margaery’s cousins, though it had only been a mere distraction. And before him, several others, even several Dornish boys -  _her gateway drug._ She smiled at the memories of the kissing, the fucking, the mornings after. Prior to Uni she had been engaged to Joffery, her first real love. 

 

This older Sansa now knew better and knew it had been nothing but manipulation, abuse, and the strange painful co-dependency that comes with young romance. Uni had been her chance to escape and remake herself, and Sansa had accomplished just that. She came back deeply changed, shocking her family and making her friends fill with delight at this new Sansa. 

 

The change had been solidified for her family soon after she had come home. Detectives had come to their house one morning, to question her father and brothers. The Stark family sometimes gave away small secrets in exchange for more freedom within the city. One of the newer detectives had been pushing them and giving them a harder time. Sansa had overheard their raised voices in the kitchen and decided to walk in after a workout, feigning she needed a glass of water. 

 

The detective could not take his eyes off of her, her flushed skin, exposed waist and black yoga pants. He stepped over to introduce himself and Sansa turned her flirtations all the way up, blushing, looking at him from underneath her eyelashes. The detective was smitten, and though he pulled away to continue the questioning of her brothers and dad he now appeared more relaxed and unfocused. Sansa had seen Robb give her a smirk over his shoulder as she left the room. Before he had left the house, the detective had asked Sansa out to dinner. She accepted, and he had never bothered her family again. 

 

That event solidified this older, more sensual creature - that also happened to be their daughter and their sister. She was formidable. This new, sensual Sansa was now in the loft of her best friends, high out of her mind, sitting in one of their arm chairs with a vodka in her hand laughing with Margaery about University. Both of them dressed to the nines for the night ahead. Sansa was in a black slinky dress, covered with fringe that shifted with her every little movement. Her hair piled on top of her head, slick nude lips, dark smoky eyes and strappy royal blue heels on her perfectly manicured feet. 

 

Margaery herself was in a tight red dress that showed off her naked back and plunged deeply in the front. Her hair tousled and wavy all around her face, gold bangles clinking on her wrists, Margaerys own feet in black heels, with straps around the ankles. Both Loras and Renly were dressed up as well, in beautiful black suits, one jacket of silk, the other one of velvet. They laughed, clinked glasses and did a few more lines until the town car came, all of them piling in and popping a bottle of champagne that they all drank directly out of the bottle. 

 

Loras and Renly began kissing while Margaery and Sansa finished it off the bottle, giggling. As they pulled up to the Mockingbird, the car doors opened and they all piled out, Margaery and Sansa began their own show and started kissing themselves. The crowd queued in front of the club cheered in approval. Loras and Renly laughed, kissing their companions on the cheeks. The bouncer saw them coming, all linked arm in arm and opened up the doors to let them inside. Sansa was on fire, it was pure decadence and bliss. 

 

The club was in full swing, music and bodies surrounding them. Two men in black suits stepped forward and led them to their own booth, where another frosty bottle of champagne and four glasses were set on the table. As they approached, the two men parted and he stepped forward, Petyr. Sansa had momentarily stepped away to reapply her makeup and as she had walked towards the table she saw Loras and Renly hugging him, this _handsome_ stranger _._ Sansa boldly stepped forward to introduce herself, she had never felt so beautiful in all her life. The men looked over as she neared them. Loras smiled and yelled, 

 

“And this strumpet, Petyr, is the pride of Kings Landing, all of Westeros really, the very fuckable Sansa Stark!” She turned to them with a look of fake horror upon her face as they nudged her forward. She turned back to look at Petyr. As he lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss she felt him undressing her with his eyes - she loved it. Sansa loved this drug that was seduction and all that it got her. It was her armor, but she felt Petyrs gaze breaking it down.

 

“Hello Miss Stark, it is truly a pleasure” he had said it close to her ears so she could hear him over the music. She felt herself blush at his words, he never took his eyes off of her. Sansa thought he looked to be playing his own game with her, and in that moment she wanted to play. He pulled away - 

 

“Gentleman, _ladies,_ please enjoy yourselves, you have free reign over this place, do as you will.” with those words he looked directly at Sansa and turned away. 

 

Margaery leaned in and drunkenly whispered in Sansas ear “Holy fuck Sansa, he wanted to eat you alive.” She giggled and pulled away, the boys were already stepping down onto the dance floor. 

 

Sansa grabbed one of the champagne flutes off the table and downed the liquid before following her friends. She was to dance all of her sexual desires and frustrations out. And god did she dance, she felt the hands of Loras, Renly and Margaery all over her and the hands of others wanting to pull her away, let her gyrate on their hips and try and talk to this _goddess_ on the dance floor. She continued dancing with her friends, uncaring of the attention, the lights and the music kept going. Every song was her favorite, and she felt alive and free. It had been so long, that she basked in this feeling of freed inhibition, never wanting it to end. She didn’t care if it was from the alcohol, the coke, Petyrs flirtations - she didn’t care. 

 

Suddenly feeling as if she needed another drink and maybe some water, she pulled away from the crowd, strangers hands trying to pull her into their arms and dance but she was quick to pull away. Stepping away from the dance floor and threading her way through the crowd she found the bar. She leaned against it and waving for a bartender, asking for a water and a Ketel-One on the rocks with a lime. She breathed deep and waited. Once she heard the clink of the glasses she tried to pull out a few quids from her clutch but a hand stopped her. She looked over. It was Petyr. 

 

“It’s on the house Miss Stark” he said into her ear and nodded to the bartender. 

 

“Having a good time.” he continued, his face still close to her ear, she smelled mint. She noticed he had his hand to her arm, it burned from his touch.

 

“Yes! A wonderful time, really.” She pulled away to take a sip of her drink and in that moment he took a drink from own his glass, it looked to be filled with a darker liquid, bourbon or scotch. Again, his eyes never drifted away from her face. She stared directly in his eyes, challenging him, he didn’t falter and neither did she.

 

They spoke for a time - pleasantries, flirtations, and at one point she felt his arm wrap around her, whispering in her ear how beautiful she looked. He was all devious smiles and darkening eyes. She knew she had him in that moment, Sansa herself feeling very smitten. _Time to leave him wanting more_ she thought.

 

“Petyr thank you very much for the drink and the chat, I very much enjoyed it.” She smiled; 

 

“But I really must rejoin my friends. Have a good evening and until we meet again…” she set down her glass and kissed him on the lips, turning to walk towards her friends and the dance floor. 

 

She didn’t look back to see if he was still staring, she would like to think he was. The rest of that evening had been a blur and when she awoke on Loras and Renlys couch snuggled up with Margaery, she found that even his face was a blur. All that was left was a burning in her chest. She didn’t think she would see him under again such auspicious circumstances. It just made her even more unsure what the Seven wanted from her. 

 

Her mind drifted back to the kitchen, _his kitchen._ Thinking back to the fact they had had sex less than 12 hours ago. For their first time, it had been amazing, pure passion and desire. She knew they had been lusting after each other for nearly two months, and who knows _even before that_. It had been such a release, Sansa had wanted it, badly. She felt herself getting aroused as she played back the events.

 

She shook her head to free herself of the feeling. Suddenly, standing alone in that kitchen she felt very hollow inside. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear, and something else is rattling around in Sansas' mind.

Peter got home earlier than usual, a thick envelope under his arm, and as he stepped through the door he instantly felt Sansa encircle her arms around him. He lifted his hands to touch her face, the envelope falling to the ground, his keys falling with a clank on the floor. Their faces met and he found himself crushing her against the wall, Sansa kissing his neck and moaning as he pressed against her. His hand lifting one of her thighs, pressing himself closer to her. Suddenly he remembered the front door was still open and with one movement he had slammed the door and locked it, back to the more pressing matter of pleasuring the women in his kitchen. They lowered themselves to the floor and he ran his hands up her sides, lifting her skirt and shirt. More kissing and moaning, the movement of their two bodies once Petyr entered her. 

 

Moments later they lay on the floor, both breathing in deeply, perspiring. Sansa rose, finding her shirt on the floor and pulling it back over her head, finding her discarded knickers as she stood up, pulling them on. Petyr arched his back to button up his jeans and rose, tucking his shirt back in and shaking off the jacket they hadn’t bothered to take off in the moment. He threw in on the couch. She was already in the kitchen, a wine glass to her lips, eyeing him through lowered lashes. Another glass stood on the counter and he took it, taking a sip. Once they both lowered their glasses he leaned over to kiss her on the mouth. 

 

“Good evening sweetling” 

 

“Good evening Petyr” she had a seductive smile on her lips. 

 

She looked past him to see the envelope on the ground. He walked over and picked it up, along with grabbing his discarded keys. He slid the envelope over the counter to where she was standing. She looked at it;

 

“Hungry?” 

 

She had cooked a simple dinner of halibut and roasted vegetables, and he gladly accepted. After he had cleared the plates in thanks he grabbed the envelope from the counter and placed it next to her on the glass top of the dining room table. She looked at him and looked at the envelope. Sansa turned it in her hands and opened it. It was full of documents. Papers documenting her life, _Alaynes_ life. Birth certificate, Medical records, school letters, tax forms, voided cheques, her University diploma and of course her marriage license. It already had Petyrs signature on it, it just needed Alaynes. She grabbed a pen that had been magically placed in front of her and signed. All without thinking. 

 

In addition, there were more documents. Old receipts, old credit cards, and several new credit cards with her married name embossed on their fronts. A bank statement showing her own personal account holding 35,000 pounds. Another shared statement with both their names written on the paper, holding _millions_. She almost passed out from the figures. 

 

“Why are you showing this to me Petyr?” She was shocked at the brazenness of his actions, it would have seemed fool hardy with anyone else, there was something behind it.

 

He smirked “Just to give you an idea of our _life_ together, sweetling”.

 

He poured himself another glass of wine. She looked away and Sansa knew what his little gesture meant. Even though they had just been writhing on the floor together, that if she tried to cross him he would have no problem fucking her over. His power and wealth were nearly limitless. He had financial power over her and now legal standing over her as her husband. Even if she tried to run with just the money sitting in her account, it was nothing. _She was his._

 

It was a taunt, as if he wanted her to try and run, only for him to catch her and ruin her. She wanted to shiver but didn’t. She repeated the word Petyr said now and again as if to get a grip on himself, _control._ This was a game they were playing and she had to play it. Sansa had accepted, and though she didn’t want to admit it deep down inside  - she loved it.

 

She pushed the threats of her mind and walked over to him, kissing and thanking him, not wanting Petyr to see the small flash of fear in her eyes. Her infatuation with him, was her one tool against him. Petyr was greedy for everything, and did not object to her advances. What Sansa did not know was that his desire for her was real and beginning to overtake him. He could break. 

 

They had gone to bed a few hours later, kissing and whispering to each other, as she ran her hands through his hair peppered with grey and he stroked her naked waist. Though they did not have sex again, they had stripped down to nothing for sleep. They fell asleep tangled in each other. 

 

Sansa awoke to him rising from the bed and walking to the washroom, shutting the door and hearing the shower faucet turn on. She rose and pulled on her workout clothes for a little yoga before her shower, she needed to get strong again. As she left the office where the telly was situated after finishing her workout, she found him buttoning up his shirt, laying his suit jacket of the day over the chair in the sitting room. He stood in front of her and gave her a deep kiss, 

 

“Hurry up” 

 

She jumped in the shower quickly, running a razor over her legs and rubbing herself with oil once she soaped herself down. Stepping out as she toweled her hair she went into the closet to see what Alayne would wear for the first day on the job. She wanted to connote sexiness, connote power as Petyrs _wife_ , and to exude confidence. She wanted to appear _perfect._ Selecting a sleek black vest with an asymmetrical zipper on the front, she would wear that zipped up - with nothing but her bra underneath. 

 

She pulled out the leather leggings and threw both items on the bed. Before shutting the closet doors, she leaned down to grab a pair of taupe d’Orsay heels. Drying her hair quickly after spritzing it with product Sansa grabbed her makeup bag from the drawer she threw it in her Celine’ bag; _she would do her make-up in the car._ She grabbed a watch Petyr had bought for her and slipped into her clothes. 

 

Petyr heard the door shut and the click of heels as he looked up and saw her - _good girl._

 

“You look perfect, just as my wife should look” he turned to say to her as she grabbed a cup of coffee and quickly drank it down. No breakfast this morning.

 

“I will do my make-up in the car” she said with her back turned to him, pulling an overcoat out of the closet. 

 

She stood near the door waiting, coat and purse in hand, “Lets go.” 

 

He looked sideways now and again as he pulled out of the parking garage and down the street to watch while Sansa applied her make-up, nothing too severe, just natural. She ran a brush of foundation over her face, putting on blush and highlighting her cheekbones. Brushing her eyebrows and filling them in with a small pencil she then swiped a little smoky shadow over her eyelids, another swipe of a lighter colour over the top. Curling and running mascara over her long dark lashes. As they pulled up to the club she had spritzed her face with primer and had painted her lips in a soft pink. She looked over to smile at him before they got out of the car. Petyr instinctively leaned over and kissed her. She reciprocated the kiss and they got out of the car. _Control._  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets acquainted with the staff. 
> 
> Alayne learns more about her husband various endeavors.

As they walked towards the door he filled her in, “first you will meet the management, the staff, I will show you _our_ office and as the day progresses, you may meet some of the girls as well.” She just nodded in response. 

 

The doors opened up and she was back inside the Mockingbird, Sansa wondered if Petyr remembered that night. She dare not ask him. As they walked in she saw two people turn their heads from where they were sitting at the bar, towards the door and stand at Petyrs arrival. A beautiful redhead and a man with blonde hair and a tan face. They both stopped in front of the couple and she felt Petyr snake his arm around her waist.

 

“Ros, Olyvar this is my wife - Alayne.” 

 

They both turned to look at her, Ros was the first to lean in.

 

“Pleasure to meet you” she said sweetly, leaning in to kiss Sansa on both cheeks. 

 

Sansa smiled back. 

 

“It is a pleasure” Olyvar stuck his hand out and she shook it, quickly he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. 

 

“Sorry Mr. Baelish, I just had to, such a lovely creature - though I’m sure you know”. Olyvar eyed Petyr and Petyr laughed. 

 

“Oh I do, just keep your fucking hands off of her” he said it in a playful tone, but there was still an edge behind it. 

 

“Alayne, this is Ros and Olyvar. Ros handles the _performers_ , and Olyvar assists with the front of the house. Alayne is to be an assistant, a manager of sorts, really my right-hand man or _woman_. She is quick and I hope helps spread a little more of the responsibility around, to let us all do what we do best” 

 

They both nodded and Petyr moved towards the stairs, Olyvar stepped in line with him to begin discussing business while Sansa fell in step with Ros. Ros looked at her and smiled.

 

“Though we are meant to be professional at all times, please know I am here to help and talk whenever you need to Misses Baelish” 

 

“Please call me Alayne, I don’t want it to be too formal though I know thats how my husband likes it.” A smile crossed Ros’ face, Sansa liked her already. 

 

They chatted as they walked through the VIP area and through the doors to the back, and up the stairs to the offices. The one door was opened to show Olyvar and Ros’ office. It was large, neat, with two desk and a small seating area. Petyr turned to open the other door, to reveal lounging waitresses, waiters, several bartenders and bouncers all chatting. They immediately stood up when they saw Petyr. 

 

“Everyone, this is Alayne, my wife and she now works here. Any problems you would bring to me, you can now bring to her as well - she is an _extension_ of me if you will. That being said, she does have the power to hire and fire as she may and though she may not be as strict is I am, she has her own sense of management which I’m sure you will all want to follow” they all nodded. 

 

“Lovely to meet everyone” she said as she was being pulled up to the double doors to the office,  _their office._

 

The door was opened and she stepped inside. For a moment to took in the size of the space, the windows with the light flooding in, the doorway that led to the apartment and the large table situated in the office. Instead of one chair facing out- it had two. And two laptops. Ros and Olyvar sat on the other side of the desk while Petyr motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs, _her new chair_. She looked at the laptop and opened it up. While she waited for the screen to light up Petyr had grabbed coffee and was placing a cup in front of each person. As he placed her cup in front of her she felt his hand on her shoulder. Petyr quickly settled himself and begin talking business. Sansa grabbed a journal that had been placed next to the computer and began jotting everything down. She was fast. Talks of figures, girls, profits, important guests that were coming in - all of it she jotted down. By the time the little meeting had been over and Ros and Olyvar stood to leave she had already written two pages of information. She looked up as the door shut and looked at Petyr who was now leaning over his large desk staring at her. 

 

“So?” He asked.

 

“I think I have a good idea… though Petyr… I did note that from the numbers you were talking, you must be doing something else if you have that much money stashed away in your personal accounts” He laughed out loud and walked over to the office chair sitting across from Sansa and placing his hand on her knee.

 

“Clever girl you are” he said in a low voice. 

 

“You are correct, this is only one small facet of what I do, the club, the girls, the drugs. They are small pieces of a much bigger picture” 

 

“So what are the other pieces _husband_?” she said, afraid of what would come next.

 

He smiled, “the usual, _straight business_. Real estate holdings, investments” he continued, “also quite a bit of financial advising, trading in stocks, and lastly… I do the Lannisters books”. 

 

As the words quietly fell out of his mouth, Sansa felt as if she would faint, the room felt too small, her breathing becoming shallow. Being in his position, Petyr had probably known what was going to happen and had done nothing. In the fallout, she had become Petyrs. She allowed herself to feel arousal, pleasure, _desire_  from a man implicitly involved in the massacre of her loved ones. He had stood aside while her family had been killed over the deterioration of the relationship between the two families after Roberts death. The struggle for market saturation in gambling and drugs had escalated soon after - whatever the costs. 

 

Sansas father had pissed off Cersei, screaming about her children not being Roberts - that she had fucked her own brother. Along with his accusations Ned Stark had refused to pay the Lannisters any more of their shares the Starks made in gambling profits, it was all over. Petyr had done nothing. Sansa even knew Petyr and her mother had been childhood friends, that he had even loved her mother as a teenager. Even then he did nothing. What was he going to do? What was _she_ going to do? Instead of giving into the vertigo, she took a deep breath. _Control_. She opened her eyes to see he was staring at her, waiting for what she would do. 

 

She swallowed, trying to hold back tears, her voice was level and controlled “Why tell me this now, all of this? After... - you have me out of your own selfish desires,  whatever they may be... and I will never truly know them. Will I Petyr?” the words left her mouth and Sansa didn’t know she possessed such control over her emotions. 

 

He just stared. His eyes seemed to soak up her pain, unable to say more. Petyr went in to kiss her, Sansa shivering at his touch. 

 

“You are now in the den of lions my love, what are we going to do about it?” 

 

Before she could say a word or unclench her tightened fists he had risen and grabbed several boxes off the shelf, along with several books. Petyr placed them in front of her, unfettered.

 

“Please study up. This one box is related to the club, my other holdings, and _this_ box is related to theLannisters. These two books here, are all my figures. The decoys are in the safe and strewn in various places throughout this office. I also have an encrypted copy on the computer, and now on your computer. As I said, please study, I need you well versed in all of this,  _quickly”_

 

He turned to walk away but Sansa spoke up, her voice level and flat. “Petyr, why are showing me the Lannisters things?” 

 

“To do with them what you want sweetling. I will be back in a few hours to check up on you.” 

 

Sansa sat in silence, mulling over Petyrs words long after he had left the room. To make sense of the situation, she tried to separate the man and the two sides she saw of him. One man - passionate, desirous to please and love her, lavish her with whatever she desired. The other - calculating, manipulative, and always hiding his true intentions from everyone,  _particularly_ her. Sansa knew why she was torn, she wanted both. A little tear ran down her face and she quickly wiped it away, she rose to peek into the boxes, to begin unraveling their contents. With a deep breath she was Alayne again,  _control._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, I wrote tons of this in advance - thus so many chapters in such a small window. 
> 
> Some things will be taking a back seat to the development of their relationship for a little bit (i.e. more smut). Hope you don't mind too much. Enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa puts her figures skills to work, all in a days work when you want to ruin the Lannisters. 
> 
> Petyr of course finds this very... arousing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, this are going to be changing I think - I basically rewrote the whole middle so I hope it turns out ok. Petyr has been re-worked to be less prickish, I'm cutting him some slack. 
> 
> <3 Thank you for reading!

He found her hours later, her hair pinned up wearing his reading glasses and her shoes off. A drink sitting on one of the chairs - half empty. She was leaned over the table, pouring over the documents, neatly laid out on the desk know completely covered in papers. Jotting a note now and then, all while she would continue reading, her pen following each line she completed. This would come to be her signature. She laid it all out so she could soak it all in, follow the trail of numbers without the cumbersome tasks of flipping through it all. The sadness and frustration making her face earlier seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a look of intense concentration. She hadn’t even heard him come through the doors. 

 

“Quite a feat?” He asked. 

 

He saw her flinch, as his words cut through the silence. She looked up again, her gaze hard and unmoving. She looked down again. 

 

“I thought you might want a break, or if you were hungry” She noticed he had a box in his arms. 

 

He had ordered a catered meal from a restaurant down the street. She looked down again as he walked over to the small table and two chairs at the other end of the office. She heard the clinking of china, the pop of a wine bottle. She looked up and saw an elegant spread of antipasto laid out, crusty bread, two wine glasses. He motioned for her to sit. Reluctantly she walked over and sat down, picking up one of the glasses to take a sip. He clinked his glass against hers before she could bring it to her lips. 

 

“Cheers my love” and he drank deeply his eyes never leaving her as he drank. 

 

“What are we celebrating?’ she took a small sip of the cold tart wine. 

 

Petyr chose not to answer her, “Did you know… I have always found revenge to be the purest of motivations-”

 

“You are not _using me,_ Petyr” 

 

“Oh I know Sweetling, I just thought you might agree”

 

He set his glass on the table and rested one of his arms on the chair, his head resting in the hand all while he stared Sansa up and down. She would know this to be one of his habits. They sat in silence. 

 

“Petyr whatever you think you want me do to, I want two weeks to look this all over first, it's a lot to process” 

 

“So you shall have it Sansa.” he clinked his glass against hers again and took a deep drink. 

 

And so, she had her two weeks. Sansa fell into a routine. She would rise with Petyr in the mornings, exercise and ready herself. And once they stepped through the doors of the Mockingbird they would kiss each other goodbye and she would immediately run up the stairs to the office, continuing her work. After the first week Sansa had to run to the bookshop and buy another journal. He would occasionally walk in, to see her in a deep concentrated focus. During this time they had not slept together once. After a long day of meditation in the Lannisters numbers - after walking through the doors of the flat, Sansa would strip herself and lay down to fall into a dreamless sleep. 

 

During this time Peytr was in rapture of her focus all the while, more distracted by her body than ever. With no release he seemed on edge, and Sansa chose not to see it for it would break her focus. She was always silent, mind rolling through the figures, her own audit of the Lannisters current situation, Petyrs current situation and how it would relate to her. 

 

The two weeks were slowly coming to an end. In the final days, Sansa and Petyr had a drawn out conversation, she had finished a meal. It was if she had been doing penance, fasting and meditating over Petyrs books. Petyr hesitantly admitted to himself he was happy the weeks were coming to an end. 

 

It was the last day of Sansas two week confinement and as Petyr walked up the stairs towards the office, a devious smirk crawling across his face. 

 

Nearing the doors to his office, he stopped at the sound of music playing - odd since it had been nothing but silence the past couple weeks. He opened the doors, hearing Leonard Cohen playing over the speakers, Chelsea Hotel #2. 

 

And there she was, swaying and gently mouthing the words as she cleared the desk of all her papers. Sansa still hadn’t noticed his arrival due to the volume of the music and took a draw from the glass of scotch that had been resting on her chair. Placing the glass on the desk with a hard clink, she then arched her back towards the desk to stretch, looking as if she would lay upon it. Petyr saw her striped blouse grow tight against her breasts. She slowly raised herself to continue putting the papers away, whispering the words; 

 

“ _And then you got away didn’t you babe?_

 

_You just turned your back on the crowd_

 

_\- when you got away I never once heard you say,_

 

_I need you,_

 

_I don’t need you,_

 

_I need you,_

 

_I don’t need you; and all that jivin’ around…”_

 

Within seconds, Petyr had crossed the room, wrapping his arms around her, laying his lips on hers. Though she had been startled she closed her eyes at his kiss. She melted into him and his breathing quickened. Petyr pressed her into the soft carpet of the office, his hand sliding up her leg, pushing up her skirt only to tug at the lace of her knickers. Sansa wiggled underneath him, pulling them off. His arousal rising from her moving hips and at the knowledge she was bare. His hands slid under her shirt, Pulling at the bra of delicate black lace that hid nothing. He felt her tugging at his belt, unbuttoning his trousers and her hands on his burning skin. To sedate her he slid a hand inside her, his rhythmic movements causing her to shudder and moan into his ear. Their faces were almost touching. He felt her hips move against his, he pressed tighter against her. 

 

“I’ve missed you Petyr” She whispered as she began kissing his neck. 

 

“I’ve missed you too” he managed to spill out. 

 

She closed her eyes at his words, the continuous touching and the heightening arousal. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her eyes so full of wanting and desire. 

 

“- I’ve missed you inside me” 

 

With that his hand slid out of her and he entered her. She gasped and again, arched her back. He pressed himself close to her, one hand on her hip. The other under her neck so he could lift her face to his. They were both making up for lost time. As he came a small scream emitted from her lips. She was silenced with his kiss. 

 

Afterwards he felt himself shiver from the release but lay still. Petyr lifted himself to stare into her eyes and as she slowly closed them. He began kissing her eyelids, her neck, her temples. With the deep intimacy of his touch Sansa felt tears slowly roll down her cheeks, Petyr still kissing her lips and body. They continued to lay there in silence, the music playing in the background. Sansa broke the silence, 

 

“Petyr, what do you want?” 

 

He wasn’t sure by the tone of her voice if she was talking about why he had walked up to the office or this strange  _partnership_ they had fallen into.

 

“I’ve missed you Sweetling - the two weeks are over” She closed her eyes to his stare and he felt her stirring beneath him. 

 

He pulled apart from her, Sansa raised up to redress, pulling her shirt back down, adjusting its long bow and tucking the blouse back into her suede skirt. She found her knickers and put them back on, grabbing a tissue from the desk and to quickly clean herself. He had pulled his trousers back up and tucked in his shirt, running his hands through his hair. He sat in the chair next to her until she had made herself presentable. She looked at him while she sat down. He noticed the look of arousal leaving her face. 

 

“So… what did you find?” He asked. 

 

Such a simple direct, question. 

 

“Many, many, many things Petyr”.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr reveals a little too much to Sansa and he doesn't want the scales to tip in her favor. 
> 
> ...and some make-up smut.

Peter took out his mobile and called Olyvar, letting him know he and Ros were to watch over the place for the night - that Alayne and him would be leaving immediately. They left the office and began walking down the back steps towards the alley. As she heard the music from the club in the dark hallway, Sansa was already missing the time they had spent on the floor of the office, Leonard Cohen covering up the sounds of their lovemaking … _He felt like a man led to a well to drink after walking weeks in the desert_. She smiled a little, he would never know her thoughts. 

 

Stepping into the alleyway where Petyrs car was parked, he opened the passenger door allowing Sansa to climb inside. She looked out the window as he started the car and drove away from the Mockingbird, merging into the late-night traffic.

 

For the first few moments they drove in silence, Sansa broke it speaking as she stared at the window, “They don’t have much money do they, the Lannisters have many debts”

 

“Yes, it is a shame since they always say they will repay those debts - it makes their bookkeeping a nightmare” Petyr responded with quiet frustration, looking sideways at Sansa. 

 

Feeling his eyes on her, she turned; “Most of their capitol is tied up with the Tyrell’s, and I noticed something peculiar, there were daily micro transactions between the Tyrells and the Lannisters accounts - I’m guessing that is purposeful.” Petyr placed his hand on Sansas knee and squeezed. 

 

“Petyr, I also noticed that while the Lannisters weren’t collecting any fees from those transactions, the Tyrells are - fractions of a penny really… they have added to Tyrells ledger over the past few years - it is slowly bankrupting the Lannisters.”

 

He laughed at her discovery and ran his hand through his hair. “yes, Sansa, Gods!”

 

He stared at the road, and wanted to continue, mostly speaking to himself as if in a shock, “sweetling, _everyday_ you surprise me - you, the most beautiful woman I have ever known, whom I am acquainted with _intimately”_ he said in a sideways smile, “ _and_ the woman knows her figures, _fuck!”_ He almost seemed breathless at these truths; 

 

_“_ Sansa… you are a goddess, you should be worshipped, why in Gods name has no one done that before?…” As the words dropped, he didn’t look at her but continued to stare forward at the road ahead, wishing he could take them back - they were too full of truth for his own comfort. 

 

Sansa didn’t need to know the depth of his thoughts towards her, it would tip the scales too much. Peter gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting the urge to pull the car over and kiss her - _he wanted to be that man_. He could not allow himself to do so. _Control._ Sansa was about to cry at his words, she wanted them to be true, she wanted them to be Petyrs words. The car grew very silent as she felt tears collecting on her lashes. 

 

She spoke quietly, “Petyr, I am no goddess… truthfully, I’ve only wanted one person. I didn’t want to be worshipped. _”_ Her voice cracked a little and Sansa turned to stare at Petyr, he was determined not to make eye contact.

 

Pulling into the parking garage, he turned to see her eyes burning and wet, her face flushed. Before he could move towards her, she got out of the car, leaving the door open - running to the lift. He unbuckled his seat belt and tried to run towards the closing doors but they shut before he could reach them. He slammed his fists against the metal. Calming himself for a minute he slowly moved towards his car to lock it. He would have to wait till she got to the fucking top before it would even begin to descend. Minutes later he stepped into the opening doors and pushed the button, hoping it could sense his urgency and speed up. 

 

_I am a fucking idiot,_ was all he could think of as he felt the lift rise. He was angry - to allow himself to admit such things, how it had torn at Sansa for her to hear it. Things were becoming messy, quickly. 

 

Petyr did remember the night he had seen her at the Mockingbird. He remembered her kiss, that her touch had haunted him for days after. She had even been in his thoughts since that evening at the Baratheon Estate - no women had ever imprinted on him so deeply before, _not even Cat_. 

 

Back in the lift, he felt it stop and the doors open. Pushing his way through he found the door unlocked and opened it to find the sitting area and kitchen silent. Moving towards the bedroom, he saw a sliver of light underneath the door to the washroom, hearing the sound of the shower running .

 

He went to turn the handle but found the door locked. Grabbing the little key resting on the top of the door frame Petyr stuck it in the door. Hearing it click, he opened the door.

 

Sansa was sitting on the tile floor of the shower, head on her knees, weeping, letting the water cascade over her. Her clothes thrown absentmindedly all over the tiled floor. Sansa didn’t look up when the door had opened but looked up when felt the water stop. She looked as if she had been pulled from the sea, her hair wet and her make up smudged, dark tear lines marking her face. 

 

“Gods, Petyr, why are you doing this? I…” He didn’t want hear anymore and kissed her mouth. 

 

She wrapped her wet arms around him, Petyr unfazed at the soaking of his shirt and jacket. He gently pulled her up, grabbing atowel to quickly dry her. When he felt he had done a sufficient job, he picked her up, laying her on the bed. He laid down beside her, kissing her softly, he looked up - Sansa had stopped crying.

 

“Sansa... that one person you’ve wanted. ...He has wanted you too ” She stared at him and leaned up for a kiss. She believed him - and Petyr had meant it.  

 

 

Petyr awoke the following morning to his phone buzzing on the nightstand, his hands fumbling as he tried to answer it. Sansa awoke with his movements, they had been wrapped together in sleep. Looking at the screen he tapped the green button. 

 

“Yes?” Peter was suddenly alert, raising himself onto his elbows, the phone resting in the crook of this neck. 

 

“Good morning. I trust you slept well?” It was Varys. 

 

“Knowing you, you have your answer already my friend” Petyr replied.

 

Vary’s didn’t take the bait and continued, “Please say hello to Sansa for me, I would like to know if she is well.” 

 

“She is _very_ well” Petyr leaned over to kiss Sansas mouth, his hand pressing her breasts. She moaned softly at his touch.  

 

“Good… I would like to set up a social engagement, with you Petyr, _and_ your lovely new wife - whom I have yet to meet in person.” 

 

“Yes?” He felt Sansa kissing his neck and closed his eyes as if to focus, feeling her naked thighs straddling his hips. 

 

Vary’s continued, “We all have much to discuss - _lots_ of catching up to do.” Sansa’s kisses were moving towards his abdomen, he felt himself growing harder.

 

Suddenly, as if to stop her, he moved his hand from her waist where it had been resting and slid it into her folds. He could feel her wetness. She looked at him with hazy eyes and opened her mouth to sigh as he moved inside of her, he was slow but firm. Sansa was melting, and Petyr was becoming unfocused in his arousal, listening to her moaning, feeling her hips against his. 

 

“We do - a time and place?” Petyr tried to speak calmly, but cracked at the end of his sentence. 

 

Vary’s noticed, acknowledging it with a little laugh on the other end of the line. Sansa pulled his hand away from her sex, pressing her body against his, lowering herself. He felt her hands around him and felt her mouth wrap around his cock. 

 

“Ahh… lets see…” The bald-headed fuck was taking his time, relishing in suspending Petyr sexual satisfaction. 

 

Petyr wanted to yell out and throw the phone across the goddamned room as Sansa moved her head, her tongue, in long languid strokes, taking his tip and sucking with extra pressure, his free hand running through her hair. 

 

“Lets say, tomorrow night, 9pm. My restaurant? We will dine in the private dining room… So no one can hear us - and all the noises we might make” He could almost hear the smirk. 

 

“Ok, see you then -“ Petyr quickly clicked off the phone and threw it. 

 

In that instant he pulled Sansa towards his face and he kissed her deeply. “Gods, Sansa. Do not _ever_ fucking do that ever again” his voice was in a dark growl but heavily clouded in arousal. 

 

Sansa said nothing and lowered herself onto him, he felt himself enter her. She moved above him for a moment and though he groaned at the feeling of her naked skin, the deep press of her hips and her growing heat he wanted her to feel as he had. Petyr flipped her, pressing Sansa into the bed. 

 

“My lady, please,  _allow me_ ” He lowered himself and she found him kissing her thighs, nipping at them, his hands pressed firmly into her hips. 

 

Suddenly she felt his mouth against her sex and she shivered. He quickly found her center. Sansa dug her nails into his shoulders, writhing at his touch and his tongue. Her breathing grew deeper,

 

“Petyr, fuck! Oh Gods, ahhhh!” She let out a shriek and shuddered. He moved up and finally slid himself in her, feeling her wetness, her heat as he thrust inside her. Their mouths locked, only separating as she moaned into his ear at her orgasm. He felt himself come at her moan. 

 

They didn’t release and continued kissing, both breathless and spent - tasting each other on their lips. She leaned deeply into the pillow, her eyes dreamy and still full of desire. He pulled himself away and laid beside her, his breathing still heavy, 

 

“I rescind my previous statement sweetling, allow yourself to take such liberties with me  _every time_ Varys’ calls” She turned to giggle into his shoulder and bite his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you are loving it... thank you!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Petyrs 'confession' to Sansa, things are beginning to unravel between them. While the couple is at the Mockingbird it is just business as usual. 
> 
> Petyr finally gives Sansa a task and she readily accepts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter because now I feel obligated to have P&S relations (smut) in each chapter. Oh well, I am not complaining... I have begun to change some things around, so their relationship might be evolving differently than I originally had planned. 
> 
> Its ok though, I hate sad endings.

They rose for work, Petyr stepping into the washroom to shower. Instead of heading into the office for her morning workout she followed him in, the shower was more than ample for the two of them. They rinsed off and as she leaned her head back to allow the water to run down her face she felt Petyrs kiss on her neck. She quickly reciprocated, pressing herself against him. They released and Petyr began running his fingers through her hair, massaging soap into her scalp. She just closed her eyes and let him bathe her. 

 

“Sansa?” 

 

“Yes?” She replied in a daze, turning to face Petyr. 

 

He said nothing, looking as if to say something but turning away, Sansa noted his expression and per usual, she couldn’t place it. Unlike the hardened and desirous gaze she had grown used to it seemed softer. The previous night and their confessions had each person emotionally raw, exposed. Though they had not mentioned it and probably wouldn’t Sansa felt something had broken between them. 

 

She began soaping down her arms and between her legs, cleaning herself of the sticky feeling between them, “Do you want children?” he asked, continuing to look away. 

 

She was relieved. She didn’t want to see the look on his face, whatever it may be and she didn’t want him to see her shocked expression _._

 

She breathed in deeply, “Someday… but - I hardly think now is a good time.” 

 

Finally they turned to stare at each other, listening to the water fall. She supposed it was a question to ask. Sansa Stark - now Alayne Baelish really, was Petyrs wife. Sansa hated to think of the decision she had made, the levity of it, the lack of other options she had been given - all in the name of safety and revenge. Though she lusted after Petyr and had for years, things were very… _unsettled_. She now realized she loved him, and the knowledge of that hurt her, in more ways than one. It weakened her, made fear feel even more used since Sansa was sure she was nothing more than a plaything. 

 

Petyr would never admit to feeling more than his confessed desire last night and at his pleasure when they touched. He would always have the upper hand and in a strange sense she was property, though that feeling seemed to be slipping away fast. Sansa would have to keep reminding herself to keep some semblance of control. She refocused, back to the present and her _husbands_ stares. 

 

“How many would you want?” He seemed quiet, his expression still unreadable. 

 

Sansa gave another deep breath, replying with an honest answer, “Two.” He responded with a little smile.

 

They finished showering shortly after, both adverting each others stare. As they toweled off and Sansa stayed in the washroom to apply her makeup and style her hair, she knew Petyr was dressing himself - putting on his mask and she would have to do the same. 

 

Sansa stepped out of the washroom, make-up perfect and hair elegantly tousled to find Petyr dressed for the day in his usual black Armani suit and tie, sitting in the arm-chair, waiting for her. She walked past him, stepping into the closet to find her outfit of the day, along with something to wear that night since she would be working alongside Petyr. Pulling out a garment bag for her evening attire and quickly throwing it on the bed, she went back to planning her day look. Sansa finally decided on a pair of high-waisted, wide leg trousers in a rich navy and pairing it with a creme-colored cropped cashmere sweater, allowing a strip of her bare abdomen to show. Finishing it off with a pair of black open-toed mules, a neutral lightweight car coat in a light grid pattern, and her Chanel clutch, Sansa was ready. 

 

Peter smiled in approval, leaning in to kiss her while they stood in the bedroom. It felt to Sansa as if they were saying goodbye to the feelings and sentimentalities that had transpired the night before and that morning.

 

Driving to the club they held hands, Petyrs fingers intertwined with hers, raising Sansa’s hand to kiss. He looked ahead and as they drove in silence he took a moment to think about what had happened in the past 12 hours. In his office, he had been overtaken by the image of Sansa uninhibited, listening to sad music and writhing about. In the car, he had revealed too much of his feelings towards her. In his bed, Petyr had given her another honest truth and with that something changed - for a brief period of time, Petyr had been joyous, inquisitive and loving. But before leaving this morning, he hardened himself. Seeing the shift, Sansa adapted. Not even a flash of sadness. _Good girl._ Though Petyr did admit to himself, her composure made him love the women he had witnessed last night even more. 

 

Petyr finally spoke, breaking the silence; “So sweetling… since your two weeks are now up, it is now time for you to get acquainted with the operations of the Mockingbird. Unfortunately plotting against the Lannisters cannot be your full-time profession.” She gave him a mock frown, he chuckled. 

 

“…You will be helping Ros today. We are needing some new, _talent_ and sometimes I think a womans touch is best.”

 

Sansa looked at him blankly, “…I will be helping to pick out _whores_?” 

 

“Escorts, my love - but yes” he smirked.

 

They stepped through the doors of the Mockingbird, holding hands. Ros and Olyvar were sitting at a booth, looking over some books and smiling at their arrival. As they approached, Ros stood and leaned in to kiss Sansa on both cheeks, Olyvar rising to shake Petyrs hand. 

 

Ros smiled, “so Alayne, Mr. Baelish told me you would be assisting me today, shall we begin?” Sansa laughed at the absurdity of it all and nodded. With a turn to Petyr he gave her a kiss and the two men walked off.

 

They both walked up to the managers offices, Ros slipping into her office to grab a stack of papers, while in the upstairs office, Sansa made tea for the two of them.

 

The two women sat down at the table and chairs. Ros cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea, “So, I will give you a quick rundown of how this all works and we will go from there, stop me if you have any questions.”

 

“Yes, Miss Ros” Sansa smiled. The red-head grinned. 

 

“Alright, so I have bunch of girls here who are interested. Your husband only wants the best so we have already run background checks and cleared these” pointing to a stack of photos and paperwork. “Now of course we give them a ring and ask them to come in for an, _interview_ of sorts.” 

 

“An interview?” Sansa raised an eyebrow.

 

“Well, they dance and perform… all while we are making sure they are pretty, well spoken, clean, you know -” 

 

“If they make it through all of that, which only about two out of twenty girls do, then we see if they want to work.” Ros sat up straight, gauging Sansas reaction. 

 

“Very much like a job interview indeed” Sansa said dryly. 

 

The two laughed, taking sips of their tea. Ros cleared her throat again, “Alayne, I hate to pry, but were you a model, ever? - I mean, it would make so much sense to me, you really are so lovely, and I mean, I’ve _never_ seen Mr. Baelish with another women and I have worked here nearly five years.” She stared, seeing how Sansa would react. 

 

A smile spread across Sansas face for various reasons, “Thank you Ros really! I feel so flattered! No, no I never was - I was approached when I was 16 but my mother flat out would not allow it” She hoped the other women didn’t notice the look of sadness cross her face mentioning her mother, but if she did, Ros said nothing. Sansa continued, 

 

“Honestly in regards to Pet- my husband, it doesn’t surprise me, now knowing how he is… so, _particular_.” They both knew and laughed, for different reasons. 

 

Ros didn’t ask more questions and continued talking about the girls. She had already called and vetted 15 of them, all coming in at 3:30 that day. Ideally, they would want them to start that evening and all had seemed willing over the phone. After Sansa asked a few more questions, Ros took Sansa through the girls rooms, showing her around, introducing her to some of the women there that afternoon. All were charming and quite lovely, happy to meet the elusive Mrs. Baelish. She was peppered with many questions, many regarding Petyr as some of the girls found him quite mysterious and _fetching._

 

3:30 rolled around and the bouncer opened the back door leading into the brothel, a stream of women filling the main sitting area. 

 

Ross and Sansa were seated at one of the couches ready to take notes. Sansa had grabbed herself a glass of wine, feeling it might be suitable as she was in for a show. As the girls were introducing themselves, she heard a door open behind her to find Olyvar walking through it and seat himself next to Sansa. 

 

“Hello ladies” he shouted to the girls after greeting the two women on the couch. They all smiled, a few said hello. 

 

“Really quick, I hate to do this but I have to vet a few right now - my sincerest apologies.” Olyvar whispered to the bouncer next to him and the man walked over to four girls, quietly escorting them out. 

 

“Alright - first, we would _love_ to see you dance and then from there, a little bit of your, _skill set_. If you are qualified, be ready to work this evening.” He clapped his hands, “Lets begin!”

 

Olyvar remained standing as Sansa heard music emit from the speakers, the lights dimming a bit to make the girls more comfortable. They began moving while Ros, Sansa, and Olyvar watched. Sansa immediately noticed a couple that were just horrid and whispered into Ros’ ear. Ros nodded in agreement and motioned to Olyvar. She whispered in his ear who then whispered into the bouncers ear. The bouncer then politely motioned at the two bad dancers and they were removed. Sansa continued to watch, finding it almost - comical. With a smirk on her face she took a long sip from her wine glass.

 

After ten minutes, Sansa heard the back door open, paying no mind until she felt a familiar arm around her waist while she sat. She looked to her right and saw Petyr sitting there - staring at Sansa, ignoring the activity around him. 

 

He leaned towards her ear, “learning anything my love?” 

 

She giggled, “hardly”. 

 

Sansa turned and tapped Ros on the shoulder and after a quick word, three more girls were removed. She leaned into Petyr, and he gripped her tighter. 

 

She leaned towards his ear to ask a question, “Why dancing?’ 

 

“A women who is a terrible dancer is terrible at fucking.” he replied.

 

A dark smile grew across Sansa’s face, “Well now I’m curious… how is my dancing Petyr?” 

 

He smiled back and slowly leaned in, she could feel his lips on her ear, “Sweetling, if I had just one more of you I would be the richest man in all of Westeros.” 

 

The music ended and the lights rose, Sansa felt flushed from the wine and Petyrs grip on her. The remaining girls stood up straight, awaiting their next orders. Petyr quickly rose and pulled Sansa up with him. “Olyvar, I think you can handle the rest, the _talent portion_? I’m sure Ros and Alayne have more pressing things to attend too, just please let them know your top three, they have the final word.” Ros stood up and nodded, walking through the doors. 

 

Olyvar winked at Petyr and walked towards the remaining women, arms wide open. 

 

Petyr and Sansa walked through the doors hand in hand. The bouncer shutting the door behind them quietly.

 

“So what did you think” he asked as they walked towards the door to their office.

 

She turned to look at him, “interesting - I think I could handle it. I bet you the middle girl will be the best, possibly the dark haired one on the far left and maybe the blond with short hair.” He just smiled in response. 

 

She pulled out the books and did some reconciling while Petyr made phone calls, pacing the room back and forth. Sansa only looked up now and then to see him turn and walk back. 

 

After a time there was a knock at the door, and Olyvar stepped in to make his _recommendations._ Sansa had been right about the girl in the middle and laughed, saying she was the one. She could sense the women was a freak. 

 

Peter had been sitting in one of the chairs during Sansa and Olyvars conversation and as the blond-haired man left the room she went to sit in Petyrs lap, smiling coyly, “I think I have a real knack for this husband.” 

 

He smiled darkly and kissed her, “clever girl.” 

 

Sansa would be on the floor with Petyr that night so before the doors opened, he took her to a little french cafe around the corner for dinner. Afterwards they walked back and went to the office to change for the evening. Petyr dressed in the office, putting on his usual black suit and tie, adorning himself with a mockingbird pin on his lapel while Sansa dressed herself in the washroom. It was to be a surprise for she hadn’t shown him what was in the garment bag that morning. She would be wearing her red Armani jumpsuit; long sleeved and made of silk it draped low in the front, well past Sansas breasts. She would have to go braless tonight, covering her nipples with pasties. Putting on the same pair of black mules worn earlier, she touched up her makeup, giving herself smokey eyes and nude lips. Tousling and texturizing her hair she finished off her look with gold-geometric earrings. 

 

As she entered the room Petyr was turned away from her, typing a message into his phone. She stepped behind him, slipping her hands into his front pockets and kissing his neck. 

 

He turned towards her and groaned at the sight of Sansa. “Gods, you must stop this. You will bankrupt me sweetling, thinking about nothing but undressing and fucking you instead of running this place.” 

 

She giggled as they kissed, Sansa feeling his hand slip under the silk of her top, exposing her left breast. She pressed herself to him and they continued kissing. Suddenly, there was a knock, the doors to the office opening and closing. Olyvar was standing there. Petyr and Sansa hadn’t moved, his hand still underneath the silk, she was still pressed against him. Olyvars facial expression gave nothing away and he cleared his throat, “I just wanted to inform you the Lannisters will be coming to enjoy themselves this evening.” 

 

Sansa’s heartbeat sped up and she was sure Petyr could notice, his hand on her bare flesh. “Which ones?” Petyr said simply. 

 

“Tyrion and Jaime.” Sansa relaxed at the names and with a nod from Petyr, Olyvar left the room. 

 

He released himself from her after another kiss. 

 

“They are harmless” he said looking into her eyes, “You are my wife, you will be safe” Petyrs voice had lowered, almost to a whisper, “also, it’s dark in there my love.” 

 

Sansa felt a little numb, glad for his hand wrapped tightly around hers as they walked downstairs. The music growing louder, the sounds of laughing and glasses clinking, the bustle of activity was filling her ears. She had yet to be on the floor at the Mockingbird as Alayne Baelish. 

 

Inside the club it was as wonderful as she remembered. She looked to Petyr to see if the memory of their meeting a year earlier had crossed his mind. If it did, all she got was a dark smile in response. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders; _t_ _ime for the show._

 

Being on the floor, Petyr had told her it was mostly their job to greet the VIP guests, and be available if anything went haywire in the bar or in the brothel. 

 

But mostly, being asked to sit and chat - along with drink. Sansa didn’t want to be impolite so if one of the guests wanted to buy her a drink, she would motion for the waiter to come close and whisper in their ear just to get her a vodka soda, with all soda. Sansa didn’t want to get drunk, not tonight. 

 

She followed Petyr as he introduced her to the most important of guests. Sansa shook their hands, some leaning in for a hug or to kiss her cheek, Sansa eyed them as they spoke to Petyr, noting they never took their eyes off of her. All commented how lucky he was, how beautiful Sansa was. Petyrs hand never left her during these encounters and in those moments she was happy for his jealous streak.

 

She could she their eyes darken, observing Petyrs arm tight around her waist, his hand on her hip, or seeing the couple kiss. All she could do was seductively laugh and chat with the guests, sipping at her soda water. 

 

“I hope your not planning on getting drunk tonight” He spoke into her ear as they had excused themselves from a group of guests to continue the rounds. 

 

She rounded to face him, “Its just soda water and lime, I’ve asked all the wait staff for it”, she blew a little air into his face to show no traces of alcohol.

 

He smirked, “good girl.” 

 

They had been walking the floor for hours when she wondered if Jaime and Tyrion would even appear. As if the gods had noted her anxiety, she saw them. Both men were seated in the back of the dimly lit VIP area but there was no mistaking Tyrion and Jaime. One was a little person, the other man missing a hand. Petyr smiled as he walked to the two men, tugging Sansa behind though she had pretended to busy herself with checking an email on her phone. They walked to the table and Petyr raised his arms, “gentlemen, it has been far too long.” He stepped aside as Sansa slowly approached the table and looked up. 

 

“I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Alayne.” They turned to look at her. 

 

Sansa had long learned the look of attraction in a mans eyes and she saw it reflected back at her.

 

“It is truly a pleasure”, said Tyrion. She raised to shake his but he pulled her arm, kissing her hand instead. 

 

She gave a little laugh, “Likewise.” 

 

Now turning to Jaime she noted he had stood, ready to introduce himself. With his one good hand he shook hers, she noted it was calloused, like her brother Robbs had been. 

 

“Petyr is a lucky man, m’lady. You are _quite_ radiant.” She blushed a little at his words, even with one hand he was still handsome.

 

Sansa heard Petyr clear his throat behind her, _jealous_? Jaime sat down and she felt Petyrs arm wrap tighten around her waist. 

 

“If you don’t mind, Alayne has other business to attend to so she won’t be joining us _and_ I believe we have much to discuss.” With that he turned to stare at Sansa. 

 

Petyr leaned in to kiss her on the cheek but instead she went in to kiss him on the lips, reminding him, _I haven’t forgotten this game were playing, that I’m yours._ As they separated and she bid the men goodbye, Sansa looked to Petyr, anticipating his usual smirk but instead all she saw when their eyes met was longing. Petyr sat down at the couch and the men watched as Sansa walked away. She had a deliciously self-conscious way of walking, knowing all eyes were on her. Before walking through the doors to the back offices she turned to flash a smile at Petyr. She disappeared. 

 

Jaime groaned and leaned his head back into the leather of the couch, “business can wait for a moment. Littlefinger, where did you meet _that delicious creature?”_

 

Petyr smirked, “she’s my sister.” Tyrion had spit out his drink in shock at Petyrs joke, laughing. 

 

Jaime looked at Petyr in anger but his faced quickly relaxed and he chuckled as well. Jaime had become resigned to the fact he loved Cersei as no man should ever love his twin and that he could not help whom he loved.

 

After his jest, a drink was set in front of Petyr and he took a sip, “If you must know, I met her in Dorne on business. We had _quite_ the romp one night and I just couldn’t get her out of my mind. While I was there we kept running into each other. The night before I left I asked her to dinner.” 

 

After the words left Petyrs mouth, he looked across at the two men, taking note of who he was speaking with. Jaime Lannister, a man who was in love with his sister and Tyrion Lannister, a man recently heartbroken by his mistress - Petyr knew they hadn’t spoken in weeks. He suddenly thought of Sansa and his’ situation and out of the three men, it seemed the least devious. He laughed at the thought.

 

Sansa walked downstairs and continued working for a time, greeting guests, speaking to the staff. Every now and then looking up to the VIP area as if she would find him staring down at her. After an hour, she slipped through the private doors to the office upstairs, to see how business usually did on a Thursday night in terms of the numbers. The office was empty and as her computer warmed up she poured herself a glass of wine, _a full-bodied Dornish vintage_ Petyr would have noted. Pulling herself up to the computer and occasionally talking a sip from her glass she worked. An hour later the club owner himself had strolled through the doors, by now Sansa was on her second glass of wine.

 

“My love” she looked up at his greeting, for a second she lost herself and smiled. 

 

As he walked towards the desk she rose, Petyr planting a chaste kiss on her lips. “I have much to tell you sweetling, please sit.” 

 

Before she did, Sansa strolled over to the bar to grab a glass of wine for Petyr, only to look back and see him take a quick drink of hers. 

 

“Very good choice.” He murmured. 

 

As she placed the glass in his hand and picked up her own, they clinked their glasses in a small cheers before they each took a sip. 

 

Petyr leaned back, “As I said, there is much to tell you about the lions den.” 

 

After they had finished speaking, she mulled over the information Petyr had given her. Margaery and Joffrey were to be married in a few months, the paperwork was taking ages. The Lannisters were cautious in giving Margaery access to the Lannister accounts and the Tyrells even more cautious of the Lannisters, fully aware they were not as wealthy and powerful as they had once been. With this marriage, the Tyrells would ultimately be in control, the Lannister power a feint.

 

Tywin, the family head was losing control of Cersei, her drinking growing more destructive. Jaime and his father were no longer speaking and Tyrion, always the black sheep of the family - had removed himself even further. Rumor had it his old mistress Shae had left the man for his own father. On top of everything else, Joffrey was becoming more sporadic and ruthless, it seemed the murder of Sansas own family had been some catalyst to his cruelty. With Joffreys anger spreading, Margaery was spending more time with his brother Tommen. Myrcella had even stayed in Dorne after university, marrying Trystane Martell. Her new family was now protecting her from the Lannisters own self destruction. Sansas mind floated back to the present and noted Petyr staring at her, sitting in his usual pose. 

 

“Petyr, I have to wonder, about _your_ involvement in all of this. Being tied to the Lannisters puts you in quite a position -“ 

 

“It is a waiting game Sansa, the Tyrells have been good to me through all this Olenna is a smart woman.” 

 

He continued, “while the Lannisters pull themselves apart from the inside, I am orchestrating their slow financial ruin. The Tyrells will soon be the ones to contend with and I will be whispering in their ear… also, I have been given a task by Olenna herself, we have been discussing it for months now. I think it is perfect for you sweetling.” 

 

She stared and swallowed hard, “and what is t _hat_ Petyr?” 

 

He spoke quietly, “You will assist me in killing Joffrey Baratheon.” She took a sip from her glass and smiled.

 

At those words she leaned into Petyr and kissed him, deeply. He pulled her on top of him, straddling him. Pulling her close Petyr began kissing her lips, her neck, and breasts. Aching from his touch, Sansa unbuttoned Petyrs shirt, along with trying to remove his suit jacket from his persons. Petyr pulled down her silken red top, exposing her naked breasts. At the sight of her being bare he lifted her up, sweeping his arm across the desk, clearing it of all papers and placing Sansas half-naked body on it. She had managed to pull off his jacket and had thrown it. His shirt was unbuttoned, Sansa kissing his naked chest, her hands undoing his belt. She lay on the desk as Petyr slid the delicate red fabric away from her body, leaving her completely exposed to him.

 

She moaned into his ear, “Oh Petyr, please tell me all the terrible things I will do” 

 

The thought of killing Joffery had given her high she had never felt. To finally kill the monster that had destroyed her old life, and feel the release of anger knowing that fucker would be dead would give her a sensation unknown to her. To feel the scales of justice even out burned her up. She wanted Petyr to fuck her on this high.

 

“Oh Gods Sansa” he moaned, feeling her hands slide under his trousers.

 

He continued, gasping the words, “it could be poison, you standing and watching while he struggles for breath…” Sansa grabbed his member and slid it inside of her. 

 

He moaned into her ear, feeling her heat and the wetness as he pressed into her hips, “No one would ever know you were capable of such things, my little murderess” 

 

She laughed and cried out in pleasure, pulling his face close to hers as he continued to move above her, Sansa moaning and running her nails down his back. 

 

She gasped into his ear, “That is what happens when people fuck _me_ over Petyr.” 

 

They both came soon after those words. Sansa and Petyr sat breathless, still burning from each others touch and words. Petyr pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Both seemed lost in their own thoughts, thinking about what would happen after all of this. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Varys at The Red Keep. As mentioned previously, emotionally things are becoming more and more tangled between Petyr and Sansa.

The following evening, Petyr was driving the two of them up the steep and narrow cobbled streets to The Red Keep and their dinner with Varys’.The Red Keep - besides being the finest restaurant in Kings Landing, it was also housed in one of the oldest buildings in the city. The halls the restaurant occupied had once been a part of the castle when Kings Landing had actually housed a king. Varys had purchased the buildings years ago when they were decrepit, and close to being raised. The man being a staunch follower of tradition and history brought it back to it’s former glory for those to enjoy at a _very_ high premium. 

 

They were running late. Earlier in the evening, Petyr had been working at his desk when Sansa had entered his office, quietly closing the door behind her. Walking over to him Sansa had begun kissing him on his neck, Petyr purposely ignoring her advances to complete an email. With a little huff she had kneeled in front of him, kissing his chest and moving lower. Petyr had stopped typing. She kissed him as she lifted his shirt, unbuttoning his trousers, only to stop kissing him once she had taken him in her mouth. It had put a slight dent in their schedule. 

 

Back in the car, Petyr gave a sideways glance to his passenger. She was in a beautiful dark sapphire coloured gown, silken and sheer except for the vertical lines running up the front and back of the dress, curving outwards slightly once reaching the bodice. She felt his gaze and lifted a small bit of the fabric, “Its Valentino” she smiled. 

 

He leaned over to kiss her, feeling her smile widen, “Perfection my love.” 

 

They pulled up the driveway to the establishment. The sides of the drive were lush with greenery and lit with hundreds of small lanterns. The car stopped with two valets opening the doors; one of them holding out their hand for Sansa to gently place her black polished fingers into - helping her out of the car. She stood and waited for Petyr, threading her arm through his at his approach and feeling the rich velvet of this black suit jacket. Sansa felt the stares of everyone waiting inside and at the doors as Petyr and her stepped through the doors of the dimly lit restaurant. The women at the front saw noted their arrival and nodded at the two, leading them through the restaurant that looked to Sansa like the inside of a jewelry box. They threaded through the tables and guests to the back of the room, stopping at a rich black door. 

 

As it opened she saw the room they would be dining in - her eyes instantly drawn to the stained glass window that took up an entire wall - its view of the bay and the Narrows Sea, dark velvet curtains hanging at both sides of the window. The other walls in a smooth white stone and hung with antique sconces and a priceless oil painting hung over the fireplace. The table was nestled close to the window and next to the fire place was a couch and two chairs. At their arrival the chairs were pulled out by the two waiters, glasses of champagne simultaneously being poured. Sansa thanked the waiter and took a sip, surveying the room. Petyr stared at Sansa and her delicate movements as the coloured glass reflected on her, spraying her with hues of red, orange, and blue. The waiters had quietly left the room seconds earlier. They turned towards the door with the sound of the handle turning and opening, Varys strolling through the doors in a neat black suit. 

 

He smiled at seeing Sansa, walking straights towards her and grabbing her hand, “ _Alayne,_ it is truly a pleasure, glad to see you so well and _glowing”_ he held on to her hand for another moment, pulling it up to see the large diamond ring sparkling on her finger. 

 

He looked sideways at Petyr, “The best for those we love” he noted, a hint of triumph in his voice.

 

He let go of her hand and Sansa sat down, the two men shaking hands and seating themselves. Varys kept smiling at Sansa and she smiled back, “Truly, it is good to see you my dear” he finally said.

 

“It is,” she smiled, “nearly six months”. 

 

Sansa and Varys had been acquainted for several years. She had seen him a least once a month since working with her family -  _until recently_  of course.  

 

Peter had been slightly unaware of their familiarity, but allowed the two to banter back and forth. “ _Marriage_ has been good to you, as I said, you look lovely, and _so alive_ ” Sansa looked a little forlorn at his words, seeing her face Petyr cut in - 

 

“Should we get to business?” The bald man just smiled back. 

 

“A little small talk first I think, business can wait till after the meal arrives” Varys countered.

 

Varys continued to press Sansa, asking her little questions, smiling sideways at Petyr with each clever response. Petyr seemed to be sitting back, surveying the scene. Even though the questions seemed too direct for his taste, Sansa seemed happy enough to answer - a familiar face lighting her up. 

 

The waiters had been stepping in sporadically, making sure their glasses were never empty, placing small dishes at their table to sample until the main course arrived and finally, it did. Petyr smiled at the arrival of their meal, knowing _now_ they would be able to talk. Thanking the staff, Varys gave them a knowing nod and they left. Petyr stood, “I have to step into the washroom, but when I return?” 

 

“ - We will discuss” Varys nodded. 

 

Petyr walked to Sansa and kissed her, running his hand across her arm as he left the room. She smiled as he walked through the door and when the door shut, Sansa grabbed her champagne, taking a sip from the crystal glass. 

 

“Sansa” Varys suddenly said in a low quiet voice, “I am truly sorry for your loss my dear”. She thanked him and sat with her eyes to her lap. 

 

“You know” she said, continuing to look down, “You’re the first person to say so.” 

 

Varys responded “Don’t think it is because everyone is unkind - especially Petyr.” Sansa looked up at the mention of his name.

 

Varys’ continued, “He cares for you, which I may say is quite remarkable; given Petyrs’ - _nature._ I can see he loves you deeply. I have a knack for knowing such things... Do you love him Sansa?” 

 

Before she could open her mouth to answer, Petyr stepped through the doors, gently caressing Sansas’ shoulder as he sat down at the table. Sansa directly turned to Varys.

 

She still wanted to answer him - “Yes.” The man smiled. 

 

“Yes to what sweetling?” Sansa placed her hand on his thigh, “He asked me if I loved the champagne” Petyr didn’t completely believe her from the look he had seen stepping through the door but he didn’t press Sansa, there were more important things to discuss. 

 

The meal was exquisite; squid ink soup, risotto, Cornish game hen, flakey white fish on a bed of arugula with toasted pine nuts and an onion-lemon jam vinagrette. It was hard to focus on the meal. Varys and Petyr kept going back and forth, Sansa adding in a comment or a nod now and then. They spoke of the impending nuptials, Varys actually mentioned a date - two months from now. That Tryion, though he had appeared composed last night, had experienced drunken fit or two and had been verbally abusive to his old mistress and father. Of course, much of the time was spent discussing the Tyrells and their slow saturation of businesses the Lannisters had once controlled. 

 

The Tyrells had been very wealthy far before their desire to marry one of their girls off and gain that Lannister name. Their money from hotels and gambling. There were also mention of what may happen to a certain Joffery Baratheon. Sansa sat and listened. It was all well and good but she thought, what about after the Lannisters fell. What then? She had had enough glasses of champagne to say so and once the words fell from her mouth the two men stared at her. 

 

“Well?” she said, taking another delicate sip from her glass. 

 

“We all get to move a little more freely, gain a little bit more” Varys said with a smile, “They have always been a little too reckless in their power, making us all ‘hide’ a little bit” 

 

“Even Petyr?” She asked “Has he had to hide?” 

 

“Not necessarily my love” Petyr interjected, “it will make our future together _much easier,_ and _profitable_ ” She looked to Varys to see if he knew what Petyrs words conveyed but she got nothing. 

 

“So… just more to go around?” 

 

“In its most simplistic form… yes” 

 

At that moment as if to cut her off, Varys asked if they wished for desert and espresso, the waitstaff immediately stepping in again, placing a tray on the table with three little ceramic cups of espresso.

 

She looked at the tray and smiled, “Lemon cakes! Varys, they are my favorite! I haven’t had one in months… thank you! Really, such a sweet gesture.” 

 

He had his usual devious smile on his face; “I remembered you had them at your last birthday”. Sansa got up and kissed the man on the cheek, only to sit back down again. Petyr staring as she took a bite. 

 

After another hour of discussion and one last bottle of champagne, Varys politely excused himself, mentioning other business to attend to. Varys told his guests to stay as long as they wished - the room was theirs. Sansa and Petyr both rose to say goodbye, the door closing behind him.

 

“One last drink?” Petyr turned and asked. Before she could respond he had opened the door a crack, requesting two whiskeys over ice. They sat down at the table, Petyr moving his seat closer to Sansa. Two glasses were left on the table shortly after and they were finally alone. Sansa turned to stare at the beautiful view while drinking from her glass, Petyr only turned to stare at her while she drank. 

 

Sansa was something out of a dream for him. Her smile filled him in more ways than he could have ever anticipated, it seemed to numb his desire for _everything_. Though their marriage was a lie, it felt real to Petyr. He had never gotten close enough to a women to know what that was like. At first glimpse Petyr had wanted to covet her, he desired her and now she was _his_. Admittedly, she did feel like his wife. He didn’t want to think if it was wrong -if that bothered her. Though he may never admit it, Petyr loved this women. He wanted her to stay after all of this and afraid she may say no. 

 

Sansa looked towards Petyr, feeling his stare. She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder, Sansa felt his arm wrap around her. 

 

“What did you think?” he asked, Sansa looked up at him, his eyes seemed so intimate so loving, she couldn’t care if it was from the alcohol. 

 

She kissed him, “It was good to see a familiar face, and that you have a friend” Sansa giggled at the last part and he silenced her with his kiss. 

 

“Sweetling, if you think him a friend, than a friend he shall be” He emptied his glass. “Lets go home” 

 

They were silent as they drove home, their fingers intertwined. As they arrived home and stepped into the flat, Sansa motioned for him to unzip her dress. It was far too costly to be ruined. Petyr gladly unzipped her and sat himself at the couch. Minutes later Sansa reappeared from the bedroom in a black lacy slip, seating herself next to Petyr on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder. He ran his hands through her hair and down her neck as they quietly sat, staring out at the city below. After some time, Sansa moved and placed herself in his lap, looking away and lifting her arm over her head to rest it behind his shoulder. She felt his arms quickly circle around her waist, his breath on her neck. 

 

“Petyr” she asked, “Yes?” he responded into her neck and with a kiss. 

 

Her stomach began to churn with delight, but she continued.

 

“It sounds like everything is moving forward, no one can really wait until he is dead” She stopped as Petyr continued to kiss her neck - her core beginning to grow warmer.

 

“Who” He breathed. 

 

“Gods, you know who” She said in a gasp, one of his hands had left her waist and was snaking up her thigh. 

 

“Oh yes” He chuckled, “How could I forget my love? And yes, you are right, but lets not discuss it now.” With that he turned her head toward his, kissing her open mouth. 

 

Her hands gripped his thighs as Sansa felt his fingers slide under the lace of her knickers and pull them down in one quick tug. Sansa felt herself against the rich fabric of his trousers, and gasped at the deftness of his fingers. She placed her arms behind her, Sansas hands on the back of Petyrs head, running her hands though his hair. He moved his arm from her waist to her breasts and gripping her firmly. His hand and palm against her bare sex. She shuddered and moved her hands to rest against her knees, feeling his hands leave her, only to find them tugging at the straps of her slip and to hear his belt and zipper undone. She slipped her arms through the straps and with that he pulled down the lacy fabric, exposing her. He kissed her back, Sansa leaning her head back to moan. Again, his hand moved to her naked breasts, the other running up her thigh and back side, only to penetrate her with his fingers. She moved against him as he moved inside her, touching the parts to make her gasp and moan out loud. 

 

He kissed her naked back and rested his forehead against it as he felt her growing wet and hot from his touch, he groaned as her hips moved. 

 

She turned her head to face his and she saw her blue eyes hazy and dark, “Oh Gods” she said almost in a whisper, “Enough with your games Petyr…” 

 

He penetrated her and immediately felt her contract and shudder. He kissed her neck and she moved above him, pressing deeply and pulling away enough for him to pull her back towards him as he did not want the contact to end. All he could do was imagine her face and the look of desire upon it, all he could do was feel her soft skin and breasts, his other hand moving against her center, listening to her moaning. 

 

Her back was arched, he could feel her legs almost lift up as her toes curled, hearing her whimper, “Petyr, harder, please, ahhh….” finishing off her words with a gasp. 

 

She stopped and quickly turned to face him, resting in his lap, kissing him, grinding against his hips without him sliding into her. Petyr himself groaned deeply and moved to kiss her breasts, her nipples - her head leaning back as he moved his mouth and tongue against her. His arms were wrapped around her and he pressed Sansa to him tightly, he could feel her warmth and wetness. As she moved to kiss him, her one free hand maneuvered him back inside her, the other tugging at his hair and scalp. 

 

“Fuck” he groaned, she moved her center against him, she rotated her hips and he felt himself getting close to orgasming. 

 

“Sansa -” “Yes” she gasped, still moving, pressing deeper into him, herself close to completion. 

 

He pulled her face to his, a hand on each side of her temples. She set her forehead against his and rested her arms on his shoulders, closing her eyes, her voice breathy “Ahhhh… oh God Petyr, ahhh, please don’t sto-“ she let out a little scream and he felt her muscles tighten and release, sinking her head into his shoulder as he felt her go limp. 

 

With her exhale, he spilled into her. Their arms were still wrapped around the other, he could feel her back damp with sweat. Petyr felt her kisses on his neck, closing his eyes at the contact. He began running his fingers through her hair. Sansa pulled her head back to stare into his eyes, tugging at the collar of his shirt and jacket. Petyr rested his hands on her hips to stare back, running his eyes over her body. She blushed a little from his gaze

 

He laughed lightly, “you blush now? No need to, Gods you are so beautiful”. Petyr moved his hands to pull up her slip, allowing her to slide it back on. 

 

They still hadn’t separated. She liked the feeling of them connected in such a matter, him still inside her, the closeness. He kissed her collarbone and nuzzled her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, “Petyr… I -“ Sansa stopped. 

 

“Yes?” Kissing her neck he could feel her swallow.

 

“…Nothing, it’s nothing - never mind.” Sansa suddenly standing up, leaving him a mess on the sofa as she pulled her knickers back on and pulling her slip back down. 

 

He didn’t move, just sat and watched her.

 

She spoke again, “Really, its nothing” and with that she kissed him, walking to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. 

 

Hearing the movement behind him he pulled his trousers back on, discarding his belt and jacket. Petyr stood up to join Sansa in the kitchen. She didn’t look at him as she drank her wine. Sansa had wanted to tell him - tell him in that moment she loved him. And she had stopped herself. All in the name of control, and ultimately fearful that he would say nothing in return. 

 

Petyr stared at her as she drank her wine, feeling as if Sansa had wanted to say something but didn’t. He was curious, but also afraid of what it might be. The more intimate Sansa and himself were becoming - much to his pleasure, the harder it was becoming to completely hold back and reserve himself. He should pull himself back but he didn’t want too, he loved her. In admitting that Petyr would throw away what little control he had left. Petyr Baelish was deeply conflicted. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading, I am really loving writing this. It has become my obsession that I must see out till the very end.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those crazy Lannisters, at it again. 
> 
> Petyr and Sansa break; intimacy peaking.

Four weeks later Sansa found a neat little package on the kitchen counter. As she picked it up to inspect it, Petyr had walked into the kitchen.

 

She turned at his footsteps, package in hand, “Petyr, what is this?” 

 

He smiled darkly, “A gift, open it.” 

 

Sansa carefully pulled the brown paper away, giving him sideways glances. Removing the paper she revealed a little black box. Lifting the lid she found a small velvet bag and a sealed vial of clear liquid. Opening the velvet bag she pulled out a little blue stone on a thin silver chain. 

 

She stared, “Petyr… what are these things?” 

 

“This” he said with a knowing smile, lifting the vial “is a very potent - deadly poison, and this” he said gently picking up the blue stone from its chain on Sansas open palm “is the antidote.” 

 

He continued, as if speaking of the weather, “The perfect tool for killing men before their wedding day” Sansa just stared at him. 

 

Unsure of what to say, she finally found a question, “Where did you get this?” 

 

“Dorne” he smiled, “from acquaintances - very good at killing people. These will be the things in which you kill with… when the time comes of course” 

 

A dark smile slowly spread across her face. With a rich laugh she answered back, “My love, they are so beautiful. You always know what I want.” 

 

Sansa placed the items gently in the box. Finding a home for the box in the drawer where she and Petyr kept their underthings in the bedroom. With a smirk she mused It seemed the best place to put it. 

 

Walking back into the sitting room she saw Petyr laying on the couch, reading - as if they had not just discussed the tools in which she would kill Joffrey Baratheon with. She pushed their little exchange out of her head to the sight in front of her - It was something Sansa was getting used to. The more time they spent in each others company the more _domestic,_ the more comfortable they seemed . The times Petyr appeared cold and distant seemed to washing away, his face more readable. Sansa had a better sense of his moods, even from the smallest facial deviations. 

 

She walked past Petyr where he lay, only to feel his hand on her arm, pulling Sansa towards him as he read. Obeying his grip, she climbed in - between him and the back cushions, angling her leg, draping it across him. Sansa leaned against his chest, placing her hand above his heart. Petyr wrapped an arm around her, making little circles on her arm with his fingers, the other still holding up the book he was reading. She rested quietly, listening to his rhythmic breathing and heartbeat.

 

As much as Petyr had been focusing on his book he found his gaze drifting to Sansa and how she had wrapped herself around him, now asleep. Her breathing soft, her lips slightly parted, her hair covering one of her eyes and spilled all over his chest. Her skin against his comforting. Petyr set down the book to run his free hand over her legs, feeling her shift slightly at his touch but continuing to sleep. _Exquisite_. 

 

Petyr reflected for a moment and to a sensation he had never felt before - _satiation_. When this had all started, when he had plucked her off the floor of her families home, how little he had imagined the level of intoxication Petyr would feel in possessing Sansa Stark. He had simply wanted her and made her property. She had played the game beautifully, none but himself could have done better. Though the mask Sansa wore had been created long before Petyr -  _perfecting and braking it in his presence._ But, It had become all so messy, it had become a _relationship_. 

 

He hated himself a little for how it had all started. Creating a rift between them that neither could speak of. Petyr could see how it ate at Sansa when he caught her - guard down, lost in her thoughts. She would stare at him las if she was drowning and he needed to save her. Petyr loved her but he would try to hold out as long as possible in telling her. He had already admitted too much. Frowning at his thoughts he kissed her silken hair and drifted off to sleep.

 

Hours later Petyr awoke to being shaken by Sansa, the setting sun throwing red shadows across her face. In her hand she clutched his phone, lit up and ringing loudly.

 

“It’s Varys” she hissed. 

 

Quickly Petyr grabbed the phone, tapping the screen. 

 

“Yes” he said, shaken out of his stupor. 

 

They settled back down, and he began to play with Sansa’s hair. Without any preamble Varys began, “Tyrion killed Tywin and Shae. He’s fled Kings Landing” 

 

“What!” Petyr jolted up, Sansa looking alarmed. 

 

Pulling the phone away from his face he pressed speaker, Varys voice filling the room “ - two were found naked and shot in Tywins home an hour ago, dead since this morning” 

 

Breathing in deeply, in a slow, controlled voice Petyr asked, “Where is he?” 

 

“Gone, he left by ship around, presumably hours ago” the voice on the line said, back to speaking as if he was discussing a simple matter of dry cleaning or dinner plans.

 

“And I’m guessing I won’t know where that is, _friend_?” Petyr shot back.

 

“Oh I will tell you, what good would it do not too tell you. I just ask you take the phone off speaker” 

 

“Just say it you asshole” There was a pause of silence on the phone, followed by a sigh. “Very well. He left for Meereen” 

 

“It’s probably for the best” Petyr nodded, Varys continued “Indeed. Listen, I’m sure you will be getting a call from Cersei soon, telling you to come to the house and discuss - I will see you there” with that the call ended, no goodbyes.

 

Petyr and Sansa stared at each other in silence. Their minds both racing, trying to understand how everything would shift once again and how much easier things would be with Twyin gone. He had been in control after Roberts death and it would all quickly fall apart now that he was dead. Cersei was a drunk and incompetent, Jaime had and would always refuse to meddle in that part of the business, Joffrey was a power hungry monster, Tyrion now gone and Tommen too inexperienced. Petyr had quite the smile on his face. They heard his phone buzz against the glass of the table, instead of a call, a simple text read across his screen;  _Come to the house now. Emergency, disaster. C._

 

 _Coming_ was all he typed in response. He rose from the couch, Sansa following him to the bedroom as he went to change his shirt and put on a jacket. She sat on the bed, watching him ready himself for whatever would happen next.

 

Once ready, Petyr placed his hands on her shoulders, she turned to kiss his hand. 

 

“Sweetling, I imagine this will take some time. Several hours. Please stay here, I don’t want you wandering around unattended tonight after a Lannister murder.” She nodded and as he leaned down to kiss her goodbye Sansa draped her arms over his shoulders, whispering, “Goodbye then my lord protector”

 

Petyr gave her one last kiss and left. 

 

Petyr finally left the Lannister house a little after midnight, the meeting had lasted _five hours_. It had begun with Cersei crying in fits, Joffery pacing the room and yelling. His fiancé was unable to soothe him. Joffrey had left the house after Jaime yelled, telling him to fucking cool it after turning his anger towards Cersei. Margaery had left the room shortly after his outburst, leaving the rest to continue talking. The meeting had been informative, showing how deep Tywins influence on the family had run. Jaime wanted no part in running things so it would fall upon Cersei and Joffrey, with assistance from Tommen. Petyr would take over running all of the books; _an offer Petyr was more than happy to accept,_ for the increased access and funds.Varys would continue his spying and peaking through keyholes all while Jaime would try and keep the violence to a dull roar. 

 

They also discussed finding Tyrion, but the only few to press it were Cersei and Joffery - the rest too _concerned_ with business as usual, keeping up appearances. Even the wedding would not be moved. Its date still a month away and now with a funeral fit in between it all. Driving and running his hands through his hair Petyr decided he needed to phone Sansa. 

 

After three rings she picked up “Petyr?”, his name on her lips sending a small shock run up his spine. “How was it? What is going on?” She asked.

 

He smiled, “Oh my love, just a family falling apart faster than I would have anticipated. Truly a blessing… let me call you a town car, we can meet for dinner, _to celebrate_ ” 

 

Drinking a glass of wine in the back of a dimly lit restaurant, in the heart of historic Kings LandingPetyr waited for Sansa to arrive. At a quarter to one he saw her slipping between the other patrons and wait staff, her eyes wandering about, trying to find his familiar gaze and smirk. Finally making eye contact, Petyr took in her beautiful smile and her body in a low cut wrap dress. She walked to his table in the back of the establishment, standing inches away from him at her arrival. In greeting, Petyr wrapped his arms around her and kissed her middle, Sansa running her hands through his hair. With a smile she sat down. It was quite busy in the restaurant and Petyr was thankful for the music and chatter, it would cover up their conversation. Petyr had already ordered; a bottle of their best red wine and two of whatever was most recommended on the menu. Petyr smiled and poured Sansa her glass; 

 

“So?” Sansa immediately asked, placing her hand on his - leaning in close. 

 

“Aren’t you eager?” He smirked. 

 

She slid closer to him, and Petyr began talking into her ear, only stopping with the arrival of their meal. Sansa just sat there thinking, her mind turningover the details of what he had told her. Petyr excused himself and began eating, he was too hungry to be polite. He looked up for a moment, only to see a wide, devious smile spreading across her face. 

 

“Exciting” he looked up at her words, but she seemed to be speaking mostly to herself. 

 

After the plates had been cleared, leaving the two of them to whisper and plan - a slumped figure moved towards their table. 

 

The man spoke, “Hello you two, long time no see Petyr - and, _Alayne_ , it has been far too long” It was Jaime Lannister, he appeared sad, and drunk. 

 

Petyr motioned for the man to sit and he did, seating himself uncomfortably close to Sansa. The three of them sat for a moment, not saying a word. Sansa finally spoke, “I am so sorry for your loss Jaime, really” She did appear empathetic. 

 

Jaime leaned into Sansa, placing his hand on her knee, “Thank you _love_ , that feels good, especially coming from such a beautiful women as yourself.” Sansa laughed and moved closer to Petyr, feeling his arm wrap around her tightly, his grip tinged with jealously. She placed a hand on his knee, giving Petyr a quick reassuring stare.

 

“ _Thank you_ Jaime -" The man continued, “- It’s nothing, especially when I speak the truth. After all of this hell I have gone through, it would be pure bliss to go home to a beautiful wife and fuck her”. Grabbing Petyrs glass he took a long sip of wine.

 

Petyr cut in, “Jaime, I can call you a cab, you seem distraught, unlike yourself, _unconsolable_ ” Jaime shook his head. “Just a little bit longer Littlefinger. Home holds a women I can never have and a nephew that is a fucking monster - quite the home it is.” 

 

Sansa did feel a little sorry for the man. Though Jaime was no knight in shining armor he still was a man scarred and hurt, realizing what little he had and finding it utterly disparaging. His family was becoming smaller and smaller, his world was becoming smaller. 

 

After another 20 minutes of drunken drabble and flirtations with Sansa, Petyr had had enough and called him a cab. As he was about to leave, Jaime turned and asked Alayne if she would be at the funeral - saying it would be lovely if he could see her again. Apparently forgetting in his drunken stupor that her husband had been the one to call a cab. Petyr paid the bill soon after, pulling at Sansa for them to leave. She could tell he had been angered by Jaimes behavior towards her. Getting in the car and driving away, his mood did not lift.

 

She placed her hand on his thigh, Sansa feeling his hand quickly grab hers to kiss, though the kiss was hard and rough. 

 

She pulled her hand away, “Petyr, stop it! You are acting like a child! The man was drunk, and he was hardly charming - quite unlikely I will, or ever would fuck him” Sansa crossed her arms. He looked at her and saw her stare, conveying sadness and desire for this to stop - quickly.

 

Petyr sighed, “Sansa I apologize, I am a jealous man - _and I never want to share_ ” 

 

He still felt her stare, “I don’t foresee that being a problem Petyr. I don’t want to be shared… truly. Pushing all of _this_ aside” Sansa waved her hand, “I just want you.” Her conflicted truth falling out in a small whisper. 

 

He kissed her hand, this time it was far more gentle and she could feel his smile on her skin. Soon after they arrived home. As the doors to the lift shut and they began to rise, Petyr slowly wrapped his arms around Sansa, pressing her against the cool metal of the elevator wall. He began to kiss her, Petyrs kiss deep and gentle. In return, Sansa pressed her body against his, moving her hips slowly. He felt her hands run through his hair. He tasted wine and lemons on her lips and tongue, the two only breaking apart with the opening of the lift doors and to step into the flat. With the door shut and locked, they continued, stepping into the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, Sansa gently pushed Petyr, him leaning against the headboard as he felt her thighs press into him. Petyrs hands gripping her hips, groaning at their closeness. He could feel Sansa unknotting his tie - instead of throwing it aside she was undoing the knot and smoothing it. She continued to kiss him for another moment but pulled away, her eyes desirous, mischievous. 

 

“Petyr,” she moaned into his ear, he could only kiss her neck in response running his hands up her thighs, to her breasts. 

 

“Show me your hands.” Obediently he dropped them to his sides. With that she placed them behind his back, feeling the silk of the tie wrapping around his wrists, Sansa making a tight knot. With the knots completion she gave him a chaste kiss, stepping off of him, off the bed. 

 

“Sweetling, what are you doing” Petyr asked in a slight pleading tone, he was aroused, and now incapacitated. “You’ll see” she casually mentioned, taking off her heels and slowly untying her dress, leaving herself in nothing but her lacy intimates. 

 

“I just wanted to _ease your mind, share my... thoughts.”_ She crawled onto the bed and straddled him again, she could feel he was hard and smiled, leaning in to kiss him deeply. 

 

“You know, that first night I _met you_ …” She whispered into his ear, “After I kissed you - I wanted you to follow me, grab me, kiss me - _hard_ , maybe take me up to that office and fuck me in it.” As she spoke she kept massaging her hips into his groin, Petyr closed his eyes, trying to focus. 

 

With a little pout she continued, “Why didn’t you?” before he could answer, Sansa had pulled down her lacy knickers, biting the bottom of her lip. She kissed him again, “I thought about you long after, how you stared at me, how your skin burned, how your touch would have felt. If it was anything like your stare I would have melted _so easily.”_ Her whispers were breathy. 

 

He felt her hands leave him, she was undoing the clasps to her bra. “I fucked myself to such thoughts, of what you would do to me, I've thought of no one else since.” She said, watching the bra fall off the side of the bed. 

 

Petyr couldn’t focus, he tried moving his hands but her knot was too tight, he felt himself begin to sweat. He looked as Sansa ran her own hands though her hair, her eyes closed, burning from her own touch. her hands slowly moving down her neck, breasts, her hips and thighs ending at her sex. Sansa was still on top of him, he could feel her heat, dying to touch her. One of her hands gripping Petyrs thigh and the other, snaking around her center. Finally a few fingers disappeared from his view, a low moan emitting from her lips as she pleasured herself. Sansa leaned into him from her own touch, her hips increasing their movement, her moans deepening, a small whimper emitting from her lips. 

 

He could not take it anymore, he needed a release, “Gods Sansa” he gasped. 

 

She stopped, her voice raspy, full of desire, “What is it my love?” Again kissing him before he could answer, he could feel her naked heat through his clothes. “Untie me” Petyr moaned.

 

She smiled at his request, “I’m not quite _finished._ Sweetling. _”_

 

He felt his belt loosened, the unbuttoning of his trousers, she smiled when she saw how hard he was. She placed her wet sex against his skin. Sansa stared deep into his eyes, “Why didn’t you come after me” the tone of her voice seemed to change. Her voice pleading, her eyes aching.  

 

“Why have you toyed with me for months? God, I’ve burned for your desire Petyr. To know your thoughts; I’ve cried.” Her voice cracked. He didn’t answer. 

 

Petyr felt her naked body slide down farther, her kisses on his abdomen. 

 

Her mouth on his tip, she stopped, “Petyr, why? I need an answer.” She whispered, “If not, I may just leave you like this”

 

“Fuck. Sansa… alright” With that he felt her mouth around him, her varying pressure, her tongue strokes, the slight feeling of teeth. He could have died a happy man. 

 

He managed to speak, in gasps, “Don’t think I didn’t want to come after you… ahhh… don’t think me a cruel man when it comes to you… gods, fuck” She continued moving beneath him. 

 

“I… you leave me feeling weak.” She stopped and pulled herself up again, her face inches from his. 

 

He gasped “Look at you, you are stunning, you drive me fucking crazy… please Sansa, untie me.” 

 

At that moment he could feel her arms snake around him, the silk loosen. Releasing his arms Petyr shook them quickly, allowing the blood to flow before lowering himself on to her naked form, sliding his hands under her shoulders, his hands resting on her temples. Petyr stared deeply into Sansas eyes. They were so full of desire, though tears clung to her lashes. He kissed her as he had never before, hearing her moan, her own hands resting on his shoulders. Petyr dislodged one of his hands to slowly move down her body, his hands burned at the contact. His hand found her hips, her center, and he entered her. She cried out as he slid into her, scratching her fingers down his scalp. 

 

They quickly found a rhythm, it was slow and deep allowing them to feel every nerve ending touched, their eye contact never braking except to close their eyes and moan. Petyr could feel her back arch, her breasts press against his chest. He moved to kiss her again, her mouth open and eager, lips swollen. It had never been like this, he moved against her as if it was his last night on this earth, Sansa had completely melted into him. She felt his pace quicken slightly, thrust into her deeper, her own body responding, her desire rising. Sansa dug her fingernails into his arms as he moved against her, both gasping and crying out. She felt him pour into her, and with a deep sigh she came. They both stared at each other, feeling their chests rising and falling. He could feel her chest slick with sweat. Sansa pressing her arms into his chest. Both moving to kiss the other deeply. Petyr moaned, exhaling, “You are to be my ruin” He said quietly, all she could do was lean her head back and close her eyes at his touch.

 

After their lovemaking Petyr and Sansa lay intertwined with the other, Petyr running his hand and up and down her hips and back, admiring her figure. He was a man content. 

 

“What am I going to do with you sweetling?” he said seductively. 

 

“What _are_ you going to do with me” She responded, her voice sounding strangely hollow. 

 

Petyr turned to see the look on her face, her mask removed, pure emotion staring back at him. Sighing, he leaned in close - their faces almost touching, _I have broken_ he thought. Petyr spoke, 

 

“Sansa, I will keep you close, make sure you are safe, that no one should ever harm you again… and, and love you.” He said in a near whisper. She closed her eyes at Petyrs gaze, a tear running down her face. 

 

“Petyr, please do not fucking lie to me. Do not toy with me, _I will break._ ” Her voice shook. He took his free hand and cupped her head so she couldn’t turn away, he continued to stare. 

 

“My lady, _believe me._ God, I have been torn at this realization. I want you, I need you. Always.” He stare was direct, Sansa was reminded of the morning she had been told she was to be his wife. 

 

She raised herself, leaning on one elbow, taking stock of the look upon his face. He inhaled and exhaled deeply awaiting her response. His whole body seemed to be still, waiting for her reply. 

 

She pressed herself close to him, feeling Petyrs arms instinctively wrap around her. Sansa rested her head against his chest. She spoke, “I want you, I need you Peytr - I love you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I just hate a sad ending. And this is my story, I can do what I want. 
> 
> I mean vengeance will come. Just a detour or two first.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Tywins murder, and Petyr is thoroughly sick of every damn Lannister (though who isn't really - they seem so exhausting).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... FYI, this chapter is a little short and subsequently its gonna get a bit fluffy for the next few chapters. As mentioned previously, this story went in a slightly different direction (maybe I subconsciously needed a break from the murder and mind games?) - anyway, the ship has deviated though will be righted at the end. Trust me.

Sansa opened her eyes, turning to find Petyr still asleep. Propping up her elbow and cupping her head in her hand, Sansas eyes drifted over her lovers face; relaxed with the smallest smile on his lips, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, and his sharp features. Petyrs dark hair, around his temples the hair grey and his beard perfectly trimmed. She moved to kiss him lightly on the lips, but stopped herself - thinking how rarely Sansa saw him this peaceful. Her eyes continued to drift, eyeing his long scar, _a gift from her father_ she smirked. Sansa had been curious and he had told her early on, she didn’t mind it - _actually, she rather liked it_. Her eyes moved to his shoulders and arms - muscled and lean, like his chest. Sansa felt herself growing with desire, pooling up from her center - though Petyr was nothing like the men she had fancied as a young girl, when their eyes had first met he was all she had thought of. With a smile and a lustful sigh, Sansa slid from their bed and walked out of the room to begin her morning routine.  

 

As she exercised and stretched in the office, Sansa ruminated over what her life had been like a year before. There had been little happiness and if she had felt any joy - it stemmed from the amount of wine she drank or the drugs she did. Margaery, Loras and Renly, had been the only ones that gave her any reason to smile. And with Margaery consumed by Joffrey and their nuptials; and Renly and Loras living in Dorne since the death of Robert her loneliness had spread. Sansa had often found herself at fancy parties, feeling alone; though surrounded by family, close business associates, and friends. Always dressed to kill, a flirtatious smile ever present on her lips, and ready with a quip so no one would know how isolated Sansa felt. She had worn a mask and after a long day, finally alone, it would drop. Her blue eyes filled with longing, exhaustion, and detachment. The only thing giving her a sense of warmth in the pit of her stomach had been her fuzzy memory of Petyrs touch and his stare.

 

Sansa had worn a mask for over five years, she shuddered knowing Petyr had been wearing one for 15 years - maybe even longer. 

 

Petyr woke up to the sound of his alarm, finding the bed empty. Hearing the faint sound of splashing water coming from the washroom, he rose to find Sansa soaping herself in the tub, looking up at Petyrs arrival with a provocative smile. 

 

“Good morning” He said, as if to himself, absorbing the sight her long legs lifted above the water, Sansas head tilted back - exposing her white throat. Sansas eyes closed, fingers running through her soapy locks. Petyrs eyes traveled to her breasts, her tight stomach and hips. He groaned. She was his, and he loved her. 

 

As she opened her eyes, Petyr walked over, placing his hands on the cool metal of the basin to lean down and kiss her. As their lips met, he felt Sansas wet arms wrap around his shoulders, feeling her hands on the back of his head. He felt a smile spread across her face and with a sudden tug and a cascade of water Sansa had pulled him into the tub. He was in shock, wiping the water from his eyes as Sansa leaned her head back, laughing in delight. His shirt and boxers were wet, stuck to his body. With his face inches away from hers, in a dark, playful tone Petyr gasped, “Sweetling, look at the mess you’ve made.” 

 

“I couldn’t resist.” She pulled him close, their lips meeting; her kiss ardent and passionate. 

 

Pressing himself to Sansa he could hear her sigh, feeling her naked breasts against him and her thighs spreading, allowing himself to pull closer. Petyr could feel Sansa tugging at his sopping shirt, pulling it over his head - letting it fall onto the tile floor. Removing his wet boxers, Petyr found himself resting against the side of the tub, with Sansa straddling him - staring into his green eyes with her eyes of blue. Moving his lips and tongue from her breasts to her mouth, he held her tight, hearing her moan against his lips. The two continuing to move and gasp as they made love in the tub.

 

Towels littered the floor of the washroom to soak up all the water on the floor, Sansa had lain them out after they had stepped out of the tub. She had wrung out Petyrs clothes and the soaking wet rug that had been lying on the floor, depositing the items in a hamper. Petyr was brushing his teeth while she did so. Sansa could feel his eyes on her - though she didn’t mind, she had gotten used to the stares of Petyr Baelish months ago. 

 

He kissed the top of her head as she sat down to put on makeup and do her hair. Stepping into the bedroom, he heard his phone vibrate. Picking it up Petyr saw a message from Jaime Lannister. _Not now._

 

Instead of seeing what the man had to say he pulled up his emails, it appeared Cersei had moved fast - the date for Twyins funeral already arranged. Ten days from now. 

 

Scanning the email, a notification popped onto the screen. Another message from Jaime Lannister. With a groan Petyr opened them; the first one, “ _My apologies for my behaviour last night. Thank you for calling a cab, friend.”_ The second one, “ _Give my wishes to Alayne.”_

 

Petyr grimaced. _Fuck Jaime Lannister, that one-handed prick. I should kill every damn Lannister and be done with it._ He looked up to see Sansa leaving the washroom and stepping into the closet. _Like hell I am taking her to any event with those monsters. Joffrey, Jaime, Cersei’s - jealously, they would all try and have their way with her. Sansa and I should just, leave. A perfectly-timed holiday._

 

He felt Sansas hand on his back, her head leaned against his shoulder. She was dressed and ready to leave, a vision of perfection, her eyes dark and smokey, her full lips painted red and looking so kissable. Wearing a black a-line mini dress with long sleeves, her feet in suede almond-toed pumps. “What is it?” she asked, 

 

“Fucking Jaime Lannister, _and_ a date for Tywins funeral” Petyr said as he turned to wrap his arms around her, taking in her warmth and scent. 

 

“You know he gives you his regards” Petyr said into Sansas hair dryly. He heard her laugh. “And?” She raised an eyebrow, 

 

He sighed, “Nothing. I just want him to fuck off.” She kissed him, “I really do not want to go to the dead bastards funeral and if Jaime were to put his hands on you again I would have to stab him.” Petyr stated. 

 

“Well then, don’t go” She replied. 

 

“-We won’t.” 

 

Arriving at the Mockingbird, Sansa settled in to look over the accounts and ledgers. Over the past few weeks she had taken to managing the club - quite successfully, in lieu of Petyr as his other endeavors (the Lannisters) were now consuming most of his time. Whether on the phone or leaving for meetings he often entered the office to find her sitting with Ros and Olyvar, the three of them discussing all matter of things, from the girls, the guests and any other multitude of transactions taking place inside the venue.

 

This day in particular, instead of leaving for a meeting Petyr took his phone downstairs to make a call out of Sansas earshot - he wanted to surprise her. After an hour on his mobile with a very cheerful travel coordinator, he hung up to call Jaime. Petyr would rather put up with him then Cersei, the woman probably drunk by now - it was only 11:30. 

 

After a couple rings he heard Jaimes voice on the other end, “Littlefinger, hello.” 

 

“Hello, _friend._ Listen, I do not have much time but I forgot to mention at the meeting last night, _and_ our meeting afterwards that Alayne and I will be unable to make it to your dear fathers funeral. It slipped my mind but we have a trip to Meereen in two days - it's been planned for months now.” 

 

Jaime laughed a little on the other end, “The mans dead, he won’t be too disappointed you two couldn’t make it. Though I will miss you both” 

 

“We’ll send flowers.” Petyr said through clenched teeth.

 

“-Though Cersei will be a little upset, she has been wanting to meet Alayne for some time now. You always speak so fondly of her - as do I” Again the man gave a small laugh, “Tell me Petyr, why Meereen?” 

 

“Alayne has never been, I can deny her nothing.” Petyr said casually, “Easy to see why.” Jaime breathed in response; 

 

“Well, I will let you go as I am sure you are quite busy. I will miss you. Meereen is quite the place, lots of _interesting_ people. And as always, do give my love to your wife” 

 

With that, the line went silent. _Did Jaime know Tyrion was there?_ For once, Petyr hadn’t thought of a particular reason why Meereen - just that it was beautiful and it would delight Sansa. With his mind now turning, Petyr would have to make time and meet with a friend once they got there. 

 

Walking back up to the office Petyr opened the door to find Sansa and Ros talking about a particularly rough customer and how the bouncers would need to keep an eye out - one of the girls had been beaten. Not surprisingly, it was one of Joffrey Lannisters _friends._ Sansa smiled as Petyr entered the room, he rested against the wooden door, allowing the two women to finish their discussion before politely asking Ros for a moment alone with his wife. Ros smiled with a small nod and slipped through the door, shutting it quietly behind her. 

 

Petyr seated himself next to Sansa, taking her hand in his; “My love, I have some good news - a surprise.” She gave him a curious smile; 

 

“What is it Petyr?” 

 

Lifting her hand to kiss it, he paused. Sansa felt a smirk on her skin, “ _We -_ are going on a holiday” 

 

Sansa pulled her hand away and gave him a hard stare; “Going to leave me somewhere I take it?” 

 

Pulling her close, Petyr looked her square in the eyes, placing a firm kiss on her lips. “Sansa, I can barely stand it when you are in the next room. I waited far too long before I could have you - why abandon you now?” He finished his words in a low growl.

 

She nodded, kissing him back, gently tugging at his tie, “Well then, where are we going,  _husband_?” 

 

 _“We_ , are going to Meereen” 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thought they are on a holiday, some things will be coming to light and plans will be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I small detour -
> 
> Letting Sansa and Petyr enjoy some quality alone time; they need and deserve it ;).

Days later, Petyr and Alayne Baelish were sitting in first class, flying to the city of Meereen. Sansa had never been this far east before, the farthest she had ever traveled was Braavos - almost ten years ago when she had gone with her family on holiday. During the ten hour flight, Sansa alternated between reading and sleeping; resting against Petyrs chest, his arm wrapped around her. Petyr in a similar fashion, though staring out the window at the Narrows Sea, deep in thought while she rested.

 

Petyr thought back on his life thus far; there had been few happy moments. His childhood - no. The time he had been fostered and lived with the Tully family - yes; for a time he had been happy, infatuated with the eldest Tully daughter Catlyn. But that was lost on Petyr when she married Eddard Stark, finding out the man had gotten her pregnant while she was a sixth form in college. Then there was University, again moments of happiness were fleeting but finding he excelled in finance and business was the closest to satisfaction he would ever feel. After University Petyrs desire for everything denied to him as a child was the thing to allow him to move ahead; become one of the wealthiest men in Kings Landing. How easily fell in with the other powerful families, their lies and manipulations, starting with nothing to having nearly everything. 

 

Petyr even thought back to the women he had enjoyed, though they were few and far between. It started with Cat, though all he had ever gotten from her was a scar and a kiss on his cheek the day of her wedding. Then there had been Cats sister, Lysa - during University. She was fucking crazy. Lysa later leaving Uni to marry her psych professor Dr. Arryn, a man 30 years older than her. A couple flings had peppered his life since, and multiple one-night stands but nothing else. He had learned being close to another person was a weakness. But then, there was Sansa. 

 

Two years ago she stepped into his life and god, how he had wanted her. She was so brazen, desirous, and so full of life. Even her own mother couldn’t hold a light to her. And now for the past four months she had been with _him_. He had kissed and tasted her, seen her cry and laugh, felt her against him while she slept. He wanted to give her everything, to take away anyone that wished to hurt her, and they were getting so close. Though he couldn’t help but think of all the hurt he had put her through, the manipulation, the emotional turmoil. It was still so present but already felt so far away. 

 

The intercom sounded overhead braking Petyrs chain of thought, “Hello Passengers, we will be descending shortly. Please note the seatbelt sign is now on, thank you.” 

 

He felt Sansa stir, lifting her arms to stretch, “Are we close?” she asked, pressing herself against him. Petyr nodded.

 

“Good, I’m starting to go a little crazy.” With that she stood up and moved past Petyr towards the front to freshen up before landing. Petyr leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes after staring at her while she walked away.

 

Minutes later he felt her kiss upon his lips, Petyr opened his eyes to see that she had changed for the warmer weather. She was wearing a pinafore dress in a rich pink color with a lightly pleated skirt, the sides of the top were open, showing her white skin and the curve of her breasts. Her hair and make-up had already been touched up, Sansa smelled like sandalwood and coconuts. She sat back in her seat and Petyr lightly gripped her knee with a smile.

 

The plane had landed and they stepped out, Sansa amazed at the airport. It was completely open, allowing the sea breeze to fill her lungs. The buildings were made from all kinds of rich stone, much like the ancient pyramid that stood in the middle of the city; exotic plants in big pots everywhere. Sansa passed through customs easily, no one batting an eye at her documents, looking towards Petyr he gave her a small smirk as they stamped her passport. Stepping out of the airport she saw a town car waiting for them, she turned, “Petyr, where are our things?” 

 

“On their way to the hotel, we will meet them there” Sansa was ushered into the car, the doors shutting behind her. Petyr was still outside, talking to the driver; Sansa saw a large sum of money change hands before Petyr climbed in. 

 

“What the fuck was that Petyr?” she hissed in a whisper. 

 

“He is going to help us find someone my love” Placing a kiss on her lips.

 

The car pulled away, exiting the airport to drive along the coast - the only way to get into Meereen. It was a port city, but in the past 50 years after the last government had been overthrown, many of the beaches on the outskirts of the city had been cleaned up. The sands now clean and the coasts littered with luxury resorts and patches of lush green jungle. Outside of the city it was a desert, Meereen was an oasis. 

 

The downtown area itself was full of history, the center of the city holding the pyramid that has been a fortress until 400 years ago. Surrounding it were small windy streets and strips of green. Beautiful historical homes and hundreds of small shops and cafes made up the city. Many of the buildings, gates and fences in the city were almost 500 years old, some even older. Sansa was in awe of all of this as they drove through - they were staying at a resort on the point. Before they did reach their destination, the driver stopping, allowing Petyr to take Sansa to a cafe right on the beach, walking through the sand barefoot to their table. 

 

Hours later, they drove through the gates of the resort and down the long drive, perfectly manicured jungle full of orange and purple flowers on either side. The windows of the car were open - Sansa could hear waves, the chirping of birds and the sound of running water.

 

Leaning her head out of Petyrs window she pulled her head back in the car, pulling herself close to him, straddling one of his legs, “Petyr” she gasped, “Its lovely”.

 

He gave her a deep kiss and pulled her closer, “Anything for you sweetling” Sansa gave a small giggle, kissing him back - only pulling apart when the door opened at their arrival. 

 

Walking up the low slate steps Sansa looked up to take in the white modern building. The resort was only three stories tall, but spread out over the expansive property, the open air lobby - much like other Meerenese buildings. Sleek couches and chairs in neutral tones sat in the lobby, each sitting area separated by vertical walls of greenery and a large white marble fireplace in the center of the space that was lit up in the evenings. Through glass doors, Sansa saw a bar and another set of steps leading outside to an olympic sized pool and the white sand beach beyond it, the beach spiked with black and white striped umbrellas and sunbathing guests. People walked through the lobby in bathing suits, laughing, looking so happy. Sansa stood in awe as Petyr walked up to the front desk, checking them in. She felt a tug at her bare arm, Petyr pulling her towards the attendant who was waiting to take them to their room.

 

They were led away from the lobby under an arbor, lined with glass on one side, the other open and lined with lush vegetation, the arbor itself covered in vines, glass fixtures tucked in amongst the greenery. Stepping out from under the arbor they walked down a gray stone path, small cottages and villas made of white stucco lining the walkway. As they walked, the villas became fewer, bigger - far more luxurious. With the walk coming to an end, they stopped at an iron gate and with the turn of key that was placed in Petyrs palm the gate was opened. Walking through a small patch of jungle the stone path ended at a large open air patio and a large wooden door.

 

The women that had led them there stopped with a smile “Welcome and enjoy your stay”. With that she turned and walked away. It was their own private villa.

 

Petyr pulled at Sansas hand as he unlocked the door, the two of them stepping inside. She gasped, stepping into the entry. The walls and ceiling were white and smooth, Large dark wooden beams running throughout the entire room, continuing throughout the house. The floor of the entry was black slate with the western wall entirely made of glass, giving them a view of the Sea and their own private beach. A low bench below the window, rested against the wall, upholstered and covered with large lux pillows. The center of the entryway held a large round table with a large vase of tropical flowers. He gently pulled her from the entry to walk through the next room, an elegant lowered sitting room, a fire place right in the middle, rounded sofas framing it - lush white carpet underneath. Adjacent to the sitting area was a large wooden table with two long benches for seating and beyond that a large kitchen, all white marble, slate and stainless steel. 

 

Sansa would have stopped in the kitchen if not for an outdoor seating area through a set of glass doors. The roof over the sitting area was glass, allowing the blue cloudless sky to shine down on the black slate floors, the low dark coffee table and the two neutral fabric sofas piled with pillows gracing the room. Behind each sofa was a narrow table, vases of flowers set on each one. The only privacy the room was afforded were the long white curtains that surrounded the seating area. The curtains now peeled back to show off the rectangular pool, the umbrellas and loungers that surrounded it. The patio even held another seating area two steps down, facing the ocean view and the greenery, with a outdoor fireplace the center piece of the small sitting area. Sansa noted a small gate that would lead you down to the private beach. 

 

The villa only had two rooms, with the large master suite on the other side of the pool. With large glass doors opening into the spacious room, Sansa stepped inside to take in the space, the northern and western wall was entirely made of glass giving way to another _beautiful view._  Thick grey curtains framed the windows that could pull across for privacy with the click of a remote. The floor of the room was a thick white carpet, a large king-sized bed placed in the middle of the suite with two small tables and an ottoman; the rooms only decoration. The walls of the suite were paneled with a rich teak wood, the ceiling smooth and white. Eyeing the door to the washroom Sansa walked in to see all of Petyr and her things neatly unpacked in the large closet, their toiletries arranged on the marble counter and in the shower. Leaving the room she saw Petyr standing in the middle of it all, smiling, hands in his pockets. Before Sansa could run to him she walked to eye the other room, smaller but not without the same luxuries as the rest of the villa. 

 

Sansa bit her lip in excitement and ran to Petyr, kissing him deeply. She felt herself pressed to his chest and lifted off the ground. "Petyr!" she gasped, "This is  _incredible!_ Everything about this is absolute perfection - heavenly really" Sansa was breathless. 

 

"Better than an old mans funeral?" He smirked. 

 

" _Far_ better, and no Jamie Lannister." Sansa kissed Petyr again, seeing him grimace at the mans name.

 

Petyr held Sansa in his arms, taking in her joy, her happiness. He found all he wanted to do was delight the women smiling and full of love in front of him. Petyr loosened his grip on her, Sansa sliding down his person. He groaned a little at her warmth, feeling her body press against his. The two of them began kissing again, Petyr releasing himself first; "something to celebrate sweetling?" Sansa nodded, her face flush.

 

Walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of the local chilled wine and two glasses; Petyr walked back onto the patio only to see Sansa had already pulled off her dress and was now removing her knickers. Before he could move any further, she had jumped into the pool, water spraying everywhere, her head lifting out of the water as Sansa laughed, smoothing the wet hair away from her face. 

 

"Its a little chilled" Sansa panted, wiping water from her eyes. It wasn't too deep, though more than five feet for Sansa was standing, he could see her naked form, her nipples hardened.  _  
_

 

"Petyr" Her tone seductive, "It feels wonderful". With a smile Petyr set down the bottle and the two glasses, seating himself at the edge of the pool, sticking his feet in the water, unconcerned his pant legs would be wet.

 

Sansa swam up to the edge, placing herself between his legs and resting her arms on his shoulders. Petyr looked down into her bright blue eyes, darkening at his stare. He rested his hands on her naked shoulders, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the forehead. 

 

Sansa tilted her head back slightly, "Come and have a swim with me, we have all the time in the world now Petyr. Enjoy it with  _me."_ She kissed his hand and pushed herself away from Petyr slightly, moving to unbutton his linen shirt.

 

He just sat there, watching her movements, hearing her breathing. Once his shirt was unbuttoned and Petyr had removed it she moved to his belt and his trousers, Sansa stopped. "Now what are you going to do my love?" Petyr voice lower than it had been moments earlier.

 

"Kiss you" She motioned, standing on her tip toes to kiss his neck, pulling him closer to her for their mouths to meet. 

 

He groaned at the contact, Petyr could feel his belt pulled through the loops, hearing a small click as Sansa threw it aside; "Petyr come in, Enjoy it with me. _Enjoy me."_

 

Sansa gave him a deep smile. He stood up and immediately pulled off the rest of his clothes and slid into the cool water. It felt good after standing in the hot sun. Wading over to the deeper part of the pool Petyr submerged himself, rising to wipe the water from his face, to find Sansa snaking herself around him. Grabbing at her hips she wrapped her legs around his middle and wrapped her arms around his shoulders - their faces only inches apart. She could feel them moving to the edge of the pool, the cool tile against her naked back. Sansa leaned her head back and could feel Petyrs kiss on her neck. She pressed her naked chest to his own and could feel him growing hard at their contact. Sansa moved her hips slightly and pulling away her arms, she rested her elbows on the edge of the pool. Petyr leaned into her and gripped the sides. 

 

"Gods" He murmured, running one of his hands over her exposed skin and naked breasts; "I do, and will enjoy you very much Sansa." With that, they moved to engulf the other, kissing and moaning. Their arms resting on the others shoulders, Sansa running her fingers through Peytrs hair, his own hand resting on her neck, the other moving to grip her behind. After a few minutes of the twos rhythmic movements, Petyr easily slid inside her. With the two of them now connected, Sansas breathing grew deeper as she pulled herself closer to Petyr, sighing in his ear, resting her hands on his neck and chest. He watched her face grow more flushed, as he could feel her press deeper into him. 

 

"Oh Gods, Petyr -" Sansa moaned, her legs tightening around him.

 

Her moaning grew breathier, more fervid. Petyr felt her sit up straight, pressing her naked breasts into him; she gave a small scream and a shudder. Kissing Petyr passionately on this mouth as he finished soon after. They rested their in silence, foreheads pressed together. Petyr broke the silence, kissing at Sansas breasts and neck, "Petyr" she whispered, smiling. 

 

Minutes later, the two were still in the water; the wine uncorked, the both of them drinking directly from the bottle in turns. Sansa leaning against the edge of the pool, looking out to the ocean, with Petyr behind her. Head resting on her shoulder, arms around her naked waist. Sansa sighed, "It really is perfect here, thank you Petyr. I already love it." He kissed her shoulder, "Anything for you Sansa - I mean it." 

 

"Thank you" She whispered. Sansa thought with a smile how things had changed in the past few months, how Petyr didn't give his favors away without something in return; it didn't seem like that now, in that moment. 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their guest arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little filler before the next chapter - which is coming soon, I promise! Been under the weather the past week and with writers block :/.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always, <3

Sansa had crawled out of the pool and opening the doors to the master suite, allowed the warm sea breeze to pass through the room while she lounged on the feather bed - arms stretched overhead, resting on the pillows. Sansas hair now dry and rumpled - still without clothes on she stared at the ceiling a small smile on her face,  _this was bliss_. She fingered the soft sheets and arched her back to adjust herself. As Sansa shifted her body to face the windows overlooking the sea, she felt a depression in the bed; hands drifting to her waist, a warm breath on her neck; 

 

“If you don’t plan on putting on clothes the remainder of our holiday we'll never leave this room” She felt his lips graze her skin and laid flat against the mattress. 

 

She reached up to playfully tug at the linen of his shirt, not meeting Petyrs eyes. Sansa smirked a little; “Do we need to leave?” He kissed her parted mouth, snaking in his tongue. 

 

“I suppose not” He moaned, kissing her cheeks and eyelids, “But - we may have a visitor. We would be poor hosts to leave them unattended.” 

 

Sansa leaned herself up on her elbows and gave Petyr a stare; “Have you heard anything?” Her tone suddenly serious. 

 

Peter still felt playful and pushed her back down into the sheets, “Just an update. An invitation was _extended._ We will see if our guests accepts.” He ran his hand down Sansas naked middle, she closed her eyes at the touch, slightly parting her lips. “If they _accept_? - do they have a choice in the matter” Sansas voice was low and breathless. 

 

“Not particularly.” Petyr kissed Sansas open mouth and gripped at her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, allowing their kissing to continue. After a few minutes they pulled apart, Sansa walking to the closet and grabbing a light cotton dress, pulling it over her head. Petyr watched her from the bed. 

 

“When will we know?” She asked, “And for how long Petyr?” Turning she gave him a slightly hardened stare. 

 

“Just for a couple days sweetling” He chuckled; “Then we will be left to our own -  _devices_.” As Sansa walked through the glass doors, he rose to follow her. She looked back and gave him a playful smirk.

 

Stopping at the pool area, she knelt down to pick up the clothing that had been discarded earlier, now warm from the hot sun. After tossing the items in a laundry bin, Sansa walked to the kitchen and pulled out a few ripened mangoes and papayas along with a sharp knife and began slicing them up - throwing the peeled fruit into a white ceramic bowl. The rooms were tinged with pink and orange, the afternoon turning into dusk. _Will he be found, it is easy?_ Petyr had given their driver enough money to warrant an exhaustive search. _H_ _ow many blond little persons possibly lived in Meereen?_

 

She felt a hand around her waist and Sansa jumped, the knife slipping from her hand and clanking on the marble counter, “Fuck Petyr!” She shouted, “I could have stabbed you!” He laughed, kissing her forehead, “I didn’t think the knife was your weapon of choice.” 

 

Sansa huffed and turned away; “No. Poison is.” Her tone was dark, though strangely sensual. 

 

Petyr smirked and leaned against the counter, “Is it?” He held her head in his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone, her pink lips. 

 

Before they could continue, Peytrs mobile lit up, both turning to stare at the screen. The smile didn’t leave Petyrs face as he reached for it and read the message. “Good news” He kissed Sansa, “A lead.” 

 

She arched her eyebrow. “Though I will have to fetch him. It seems since his arrival our friend has done nothing but drink himself into quite the stupor.” 

 

“Shocking.” Sansa noted dryly.

 

Peter set down the mobile and placed his other hand on her cheek; “My love, stay here and relax while I’m out. Order dinner to be delivered here, get cleaned up, change - _that_ is not appropriate for guests” Eyeing her figure, Petyr lowered his voice. Sansa had slipped on a short cotton tank dress. The back completely open, nothing but two thin straps and a braided strip of fabric down her back holding up the garment. Nothing had been left to the imagination. 

 

She arched her eyebrow, “I suppose.”

 

He kissed her deeply and Sansa gave a small laugh once they released, though they were still wrapped around each other. Petyr picked up his mobile and with a few taps, had called the front desk - asking that a car be ready in 15 minutes. Ending the call he moved towards their room to change, Sansa followed behind him. She herself now sitting on the bed watching him dress, “Petyr?” 

 

“Yes?” He was pulling on a clean shirt.

 

“There is no reason to _lie_ in Meereen - is there? ... No one in Kings Landing would be the wiser if certain _truths_ came out?” Petyr arched his own eyebrow, placing both hands on Sansas shoulders, looking down into her eyes. “No sweetling, no reason.” Petyr was unsure of Sansas words - they were already truthful with each other - now. 

 

“Good” She sighed and he felt her shoulders drop, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye she tilted her head up to give Petyr a kiss; “Goodbye my love.” 

 

He gave her a devious smile and left the room, the hotel - to fetch Tyrion Lannister. 

 

Sansa wandered into the kitchen and picked at the bowl of fruit she had prepared earlier, leaning over the counter as savored the ripe fruit, sucking the juice off of her fingers. Picking up the hotel phone she spoke in quiet tones to the front desk attendant and asked for dinner and several bottles of wine to be delivered to their villa. The attendant on the other side of the line mentioned a chef could come and prepare it in the kitchen personally- one of the many perks they noted, staying in the nicest rooms of the entire resort. Sansa agreed and hung up the phone. 

 

30 minutes later she heard a knock at the front door and let in a cook, a large basket of supplies in the mans arms. Once he was settled Sansa let the cook know she would be getting ready in the master suite and he could let him self out once he was finished. He nodded in agreement and she left to get ready.

 

Standing in front of the full-length mirror after showering; Sansa tugged at her chocolate brown locks, frowning. It had been nearly 4 months since she had last seen her red hair - she missed it and she knew Petyr did too; self-admittedly the man had a thing for red heads, and mused more than fondly at his memories of her in a previous form. Sansa herself was getting tired of having to disguise a little part of her old self every 3 weeks. She wanted _any_  little semblance of that back. Soon though, she could; and that was about it. Sansa realized, little else from her old self would never reappear. Legally, she was dead. Petyr could could say her name all he wanted while they fucked but Sansa Stark - that women on paper would never exist. It made her chest tighten.

 

“Who are you?!” Sansa pointed at her reflection, the confused girl staring back. The blue eyes, the pale skin, the posture and _the figure_ was all her but… wasn’t. After Joffrey, after the Lannisters were all but ashes who would she be then? A new name? _S_ _omething_ Stark,  _something_ Baelish - Sansa Baelish? She blushed and looked at her diamond ring, _Alaynes_ ring. Truthfully, Sansa was getting tired of Alayne. The need for her seemed to be fading fast.  _Good._

 

She sighed and went back to readying herself. Sansa took her time, unsure of when Petyr would return, who he would return with. Finally ready for dinner, in the outdoor seating area she rested on one of the couches. With her body fully elongated, Sansa lounged. Her hair in its usual tousled state with minimal make-up, dressed in a Diane Von Furstenburg co-ordinate top and skirt of black, white, and blue. The top black with a touch of gingham, the skirt a pattern of leaves. She hiked the soft fabric of the skirt to her bare thighs and rested her feet on the arms of the couch. Staring into the fire alight in the fireplace with her hand around a glass of wine, Sansa played with her hair, bringing the glass to her lips now and again to drink. Not wanting to be disappointed, Sansa refused to check the time. Finally she heard voices in the main sitting area. Her body thrumming at the sound of Petyrs voice - the other slurred, though familiar. Grabbing her glass and picking up the wine bottle with a dark smile, Sansa walked to the open seating area - seeing only one man present; Tyrion. 

 

She set her bottle down on the table behind the couch he occupied with a small clunk - hoping to catch the impaired mans attention; “Hello Tryion.” 

 

“Oh, hello Alayne” Tyrion sounded tired, and irritated - having little desire to speak with Petyrs new _wife_. Amusing near strangers didn’t seem appealing to Tyrion, tonight - if ever, again. Sansa smiled and walked to the vacant couch across from his and sat down, crossing her legs; “Tyrion, I would prefer Sansa if you don't mind.” 

 

The man was mid-drink and at her words the glass seemed to slip from his hands and shatter on the stone floor, coating the ground with wine. Petyr walked out in that moment, catching Sansa looking very smug and Tyrion looking shocked and disarmed. 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their trip in Meereen continues. Some distractions and some banter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... It's been awhile since the last update, my apologies! Writing two fics at the same damn time is a task in and of itself. 
> 
> Its some fluff and stuff for another chapter or two... But hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, for a moment of shameless self promotion - I am now on Tumblr (A Tumblrina; I thought it was clever) so please follow me:
> 
> b-baminal.tumblr.com

He turned to Petyr, “Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?” Petyr looked to Sansa, her smile sedate. 

 

Petyr walked over to the sofa slowly and sat down next to her; leaning back and draping his arm over Sansas shoulder, unsure of what was going on between the two of them - acting as an observer. In disbelief, Tyrion got up and approached the woman, his face inches from hers. Reaching up, he touched his hands to Sansas face, pushing the hair out of her eyes, Staring into the deep blue orbs. Gently grabbing her chin Tyrion inspected her face, turning it from side to side as if it was a piece of art to buy. Surprisingly Petyr did nothing to stop the man from his handling of Sansa, herself not bothering to push his hands away. 

 

Finally he pulled away, looking into her eyes one last time; “My god child, it really is you! _Alive_ \- and looking _very well,_ might I add.” After running his eyes up and down Sansas figure he looked towards Petyr, giving the man a strange stare. 

 

All Petyr could do was smirk back, “And you kept this from me?” 

 

“It’s hard to trust anyone these days, you have to kill someone to earn it it seems.” Petyr filled another glass and slid it over the table to their guest. Tyrions hands pawed at the glass, though he did not take a drink. 

 

“Sansa - all this time… after your family, the reports… all of it.” He stared straight into her eyes, a peculiar look spreading across his features. Leaning forward herself, she now faced Tyrion, “The families would have _something_ to say if a dead women was wandering the streets. I… I had to become someone else in Kings Landing - not here.” 

 

Tyrion was too intoxicated, and too far in shock to censor himself and laughed, “By playing Petyrs _wife - Alayne_? Frankly my dear, you are playing the part rather well - _too well_ , if in Meereen one can be themselves. Do you have to play his _wife_ between the sheets too?” Sansa looked away slightly speechless and hurt; Petyr now leaning in, his voice harsh and low. “What goes on, what _has_ happened and been discussed between the two of us - frankly, is none of your concern.” 

 

Drunk Tyrion seemed quite unperturbed with Petyrs threatening tone and continued, “Truly, I mean no offense to either of you, especially Sansa - you were always my favorite Stark, a far better conversationalists and drinking companion - even better than you Baelish.” He chuckled to himself and took a long drink from his wine, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

“You two seem - so _comfortable_ with each other; _here_ and back home. Everyone back home was whispering about Littlefinger and his beautiful new wife - quite the scandal really, they didn’t think you were capable of such a _catch_.” Petyr couldn’t help but give a short laugh. “Though I know you both made the _right_ decision. If Sansa was walking the streets alive and you two were married, an even bigger scandal would have erupted. Particularly if she walked away from that blood bath right into your arms.”

 

“Tyrion…“ Sansa sighed, “Please - don’t.” Petyr remained silent; though the corners of his mouth twitched, jaw set, his hands slightly clenched.  

 

Tyrion cleared his throat and stood up, breaking the silence, sensing he had done enough for one evening; “I fear I must sleep. Thank you gracious hosts - it's always such a delight.” Being unfamiliar with his lodgings Sansa stood and walked to the doors of his room, opening the doors for Tyrion. As if a child being reprimanded he stepped inside. Not bothering to shut the glass doors he stood at the edge of the bed and fell in - shoes and clothes still on. 

 

While Sansa escorted Tyrion to his room, Petyr had risen and was now sitting in the living room; watching the fire in its grate, arms crossed. Sansa walked in, sensing his frustration and leaned down, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his earlobe. Silently he pulled at her arm and she walked around the couch, nestling herself in Petyrs lap, her head in the crook of his arm. 

 

“Well that went well.’ Sansa noted in a dry tone she could feel his small smirk against her skin; “Was he that pleasant on the drive over?” 

 

“About the same, thought I think it was a little sudden to announce _yourself._ Set him over the edge my love _.”_ ” She sighed, Petyr didn’t seem too upset, just wishful things could have been a little _smoother_. 

 

He turned Sansas head, allowing himself access to her soft lips, kissing her lightly; “And, I wasn’t too fond of how he spoke of you - of us.” Petyr was quiet. 

 

“Well, to a degree is it true - _was true_. Though it’s not our reality anymore Petyr.” Sansa spoke quietly in his ear, Petyrs hands running through her hair. 

 

He pulled her face away slightly, his eyes drifting over her features, “What I wouldn’t give now to go back -“ Sansa placed finger across his lips, silencing him. “But you can’t - ”He sighed, “I still would have liked to give you some kind of choice.” 

 

She smiled and kissed him, “I just would have liked it if you hadn’t been such a conniving prick.” Petyr laughed, maneuvering Sansa so she now straddled him.

 

“You will be the death of me sweetling, I swear to the Gods. I am yours to command.” He rested his hand on the small of her back, his other hand resting on the back of her head, he leaned forward to kiss her open mouth - hearing a sigh at the contact. 

 

They lay on the sofa for a time longer, laying in silence until they rose to dine and walk to their suite soon after - putting an end to the long day. They passed Tryions room to hear the man snoring, laying just as he had been left hours earlier. 

 

Petyr spoke into Sansas ear as they passed, a smirk on his lips - “I hope the fucker has quite the headache when he wakes.”

 

As Petyr had predicted, Tyrion awoke with a headache he hadn’t experienced the likes of in months, possibly since it was also his first sober morning in some time as well. He scanned the room to find himself lying a top a very plush mattress, still clothed, shoes still on. Straining his ears he could hear the sounds of laughter coming from outside his open doors. Sitting up and peaking over the wooden headboard he saw Sansa and Petyr sitting by the pool, the early morning sun on their backs. Petyr was laying on a lounge chair while Sansa sat a top him, whispering in his ear, the man resting his hands against her temples, smiling, kissing her. Petyrs stare wholly consumed by the women on top of him, unaware they were now being watched.

 

Tyrion knew he should look away, or say something - but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He continued to stare, straining to hear their conversation - the trivial banter of lovers. Redirecting his focus Tyrion settled on the looks the two gave each other; their desire thick and palatable. Petyrs hands had drifted to Sansas hips, Tyrion taking in his grip on her as Petyr massaged her skin through the fabric of the dress. He saw the mirrored smiles as Sansa leaned forward to kiss Petyr. Her hands gripping the sides of the chair; her own hips beginning to press deeper into Petyr, the spreading of her white thighs to bring him closer. 

 

He could hear their gasps, Tyrions conscience telling him to look away - though settling on his more primal and _depraved_ instincts to watch. Slowly he saw Petyrs hand wander up her dress; finally meeting its destination with Sansa arching back, gasping in pleasure - her skin becoming flushed. He saw her move her hands to Petyrs trousers, biting her lower lip as they came undone. Inching down the fabric a little, Sansa rising and lowering herself onto him - though he could see nothing - he knew exactly what was going on, biting his own hand to silence himself. Though he had never had the desire to see Petyr in any position Sansa was another story - her state too delicious to ignore. The couple moved together Sansa leaning her head back before kissing Petyr again. The mans hand slipping between her skin and the fabric of her dress touching her breasts, her naked skin. 

 

“Oh gods Petyr” he heard her moan; Tyrion dying, tasting blood - biting his own hand in frustration. He saw Petyr sit up, pressing her delightful body close to his. Sansa resting her head in the crook of his neck as he could hear her climax, Petyr puliing her face away to kiss her deeply - groaning into her open mouth. A few hard thrusts and they two were spent, Sansa now laying directly on top of Petyr; himself smiling weaving his hands through her hair. Their words cutting through the silence for Tyrion to hear, numbing any further arousal he could have gleamed from their coupling. 

 

“My love” She giggled, “A morning well spent.” They kissed again Petyrs eyes burning into her own; “I love you.” 

 

She kissed him back sighing. “And I love you’ At that point, the intimacy had peaked and become sickeningly sweet for Tyrion, sliding back into the bed, pulling his stare away. 

 

To him their fucking was perfectly understandable but now, it all seemed to click into place. Tyrion had known for years of Petyrs _i_ _nfatuation_ with Sansa, and had known to a degree - she had pined for him too. He now understood Petyrs shortness with him the night before - the cold stares. He couldn’t blame the man, Petyrs one weakness - her; was all around him. 

 

On to more pressing matters, the scene Tyrion had just witnessed left him bothered and aroused. Due to a slight twinge of guilt he felt from his conscience at the idea of finding some release, he instead just laid there and let it pass - thinking of all manners of things unpleasant and vile. Finally falling out of bed with a loud sigh he walked outside, the two still laying down on the lounge chair. Petyrs eyes meeting Tyrions while he kissed the women laying next to him, resting his hand on Sansas shoulder and pulling her closer. Petyr released and sat up, a smirk on his face as he walked forward; Sansa turning her head and sitting up at his arrival, adjusting her dress to cover herself. She sat up on the chair with a stretch, resting her hands on her knees; “Morning Tyrion.” 

 

“Hello” Tryion coughed, trying not to make eye contact. The knowledge he had seen them being intimate well written across his face. 

 

Petyr sensed a little discomfort and relished in it. “Make yourself comfortable, my friend, relax - we can discuss when your feeling _better.”_ With that he rose, kissing Sansa on the cheek and walking into the main rooms. 

 

Leaving Sansa and Tyrion alone, himself having little to say - Tyrion finally settled on the appropriate sentiment; “Sansa, you look practically glowing this morning - vigorous exercise does the body good.” With a small nod he turned to follow Petyr. Deciphering his true meaning Sansa gave a short laugh as he walked away; “Glad you enjoyed the show - dirty little voyeur.” 

 

As the morning passed, all three of them found themselves occupied individually. Petyr in the kitchen, pacing the room while he talked on his mobile, Sansa resting in their room - stretched out a top the white sheets and Tyrion spending the morning as he did every other - with a drink in his hand. Staring out the door Sansa saw Tyrion laying on one of the lounge chairs, his eyes covered by a pair of dark sunglasses. 

 

Changing into her bathing suit she stepped out onto the warm patio - approaching his chair, “May I join you?” 

 

Tilting his head down he looked up at Sansa in her suit, a pack of cigarettes in hand. “Of course, whatever the lady wishes” Sansa gave him a small curtsy and arranged herself on the empty lounge chair next to him.

 

Motioning to the bottle of liquor at his feet he handed her the bottle, allowing her to fill a glass that had been resting on the table between them. Silently he pulled the glass from her fingers and rose coming back with several ice cubes floating in the drink. She took a long sip after whispering some thanks. They sat in silence, staring at the sky and the view stretched out before them. 

 

Finally he looked over at the sound of her lighter clicking and an exhale. “How are you my dear?” Tyrion now more composed, ready to speak and Sansa receptive. 

 

“Tyrion, I am doing quite well… one might say happy even.” She gave him a little smile. “You?” 

 

He snorted, “Sansa, far better than one would expect from a man that recently had killed his father and ex-lover.” 

 

Unsure of what to say she nodded and took a sip from her drink, “Sorry to be so melancholy, dreadful really. Truthfully I am well at the moment.” 

 

“I would except nothing less from you Tyrion” He laughed at her jape. 

 

“ - I must say, you and Baelish seem completely _besotted_. I am conflicted; it makes me so happy to see your joy, and yet it makes me completely miserable for I am drunk and alone.” 

 

He continued, “I am happy for you Sansa, whenever we met you always seemed a little drunk, a little sad and alone yourself.” 

 

She looked away - finally staring back. Acknowledging the truth in his words with a small nod.

 

Tyrion cleared his throat; “People that find themselves isolated in one way or another can sense others doing the same. Thus me saying, I am happy for you. When others weren’t looking you had the look of someone drowning, wishing to be saved.” 

 

They sat in silence for a time.

“Well” she breathed; “I learned rather quickly no one was out to _really_ save me. I thought they were. So, I had to protect myself, _before of all this_. I loved my family, and I always will but… so much bullshit about honor, and duty. I felt as if I was on the outside looking in; that I was the only one who could see it all for what it was. I did what i could to change that but the Starks bend for no one, even their own children. It killed them. _And I was spared_. Tyrion, sorry to rabble on, really - I’m sorry” Two tears had run down her face, her eyes now tinged pink.

 

“Don’t be - I for different reasons felt the exact same way within my own family." -  "And I know Petyr does.” Tyrion added. She smiled, wiping the tears away.

 

Sansa ran her fingers along the edge of her glass, looking down; “You know, I haven’t talked about them in months, especially like that. I only reserved that for when they were alive and I stumbled home - Gods, I was a fucking mess” 

 

“I as well my dear.” With that Tyrion held out his glass and they clinked glasses in cheers as Sansa laughed with tears in her eyes. 

 

Petyr had stepped out almost an hour ago for an “emergency” phone call with Cersei; stopping at the doorway Petyr overheard their discussion, the two unaware of his approach.

 

He heard Sansas voice; “Tyrion, no, I am not a _good_ person. I laundered money for my family, I will be killing a man - the thought of it delights me. I have never been happier in my life and the catalyst was my families murder, I am not good... I find myself becoming desirous of everything.” 

 

He heard Tyrion laugh, Petyr supressing a smile. Tyrion spoke again, “Well you are good, for _obvious_ and non obvious reasons - your honesty, I find very good; refreshing.” 

 

“I will take that.” She gave a small smirk.

 

“Also, Sansa, you're beautiful. So beautiful even the devil himself would make an exception for your terrible behavior.” She laughed and thanked him. Sansa did turn and saw Petyr standing there, he gave her a devious smile, herself giving him a small wink. 

 

At that Petyr stepped out, kissing Sansa on the cheek and positioning himself behind her on the lounge-chair, herself now leaning into his chest. The three of them spoke for a little bit, Petyr taking a sip from Sansas glass now and then, running one of his hands through her hair, her hand rubbing his thigh. 

 

After a time, the two men began discussing some past event in detail and with that Sansa rose to excuse herself; saying she was going down to the private beach to read. After stepping out of Petyr and hers room armed with a book, a blanket, her hat and sunglasses, the two men stared as she walked down the narrow sandy path before disappearing. 

 

“You and Sansa had quite the talk.” Said Petyr as he lit himself a cigarette. 

 

Tyrion refilled his glass, “We did. You know we spoke now and again, and attended the same functions, well after Joffreys and Sansas engagement ended years ago.” 

 

“I keep forgetting we all in a sense _worked_ together.” Petyr took a long exhale, smoke filling the air.

 

“You didn’t forget Littlefinger, you just couldn’t focus on anything when it came to her - it seems you still don't.” Tyrion looked right at Petyr, all he could do was nod his head - taking another long drag from his cigarette; “I would agree Tyrion, honestly, I don’t foresee it ending _anytime_ soon.” 

 

“Well, I must say, from what she has mentioned, the feeling is mutual. She hasn’t been this happy in years, though very conflicted regarding those feelings.” 

 

Petyr looked at Tyrion, the man continued; “She’s never been happier, _the catalyst being her parents and siblings murder_ \- how would you feel? If anything.” 

 

“I have no idea, I never had to worry myself with such thoughts. But I know it weighs heavy on her, _often._ ” Petyr sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, taking another long exhale from his cigarette; fidgeting with his lighter. 

 

“Sansa to me always seemed a sad figure. Beautiful, frank, pragmatic and… a little _lost.”_ Petyr looked away and thought about what Tyrion had said. He could see it in her, when she was lost in thought, when he would find her staring out into nothing her eyes searching for _something_.

 

“I’m not suggesting saving her Petyr, _though you’ve already done that_ \- You yourself have gone through quite a change as well; frankly I find it nauseatingly sweet” Tyrion took a long draught from the bottle setting it between his legs once he had finished, wiping the extra liquor from his mouth. 

 

“Well haven’t you become overly soft and sentimental.” Petyr chuckled.

 

“Yes - I find killing your old mistress does that to you” He said with a sad smile, Petyr shook his head. 

 

“I do have one more thing to add to this Petyr, since your little plan actually worked you may want to tell her.” 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little more truth seeps out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for some time now - I've been changing my mind far too often I what I want to do with it (besides seeing it to the end?), but I think I have a good idea. Another chapter and the story will be picking back up again... I promise :). 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading!

Sansa had been laying on the beach, unable to focus on her book - too lost in her own thoughts, Tyrion had shaken many things loose in her mind. Sitting up and leaning her head on one of her knees, she let the tears fall. Sansa felt guilty. Guilty for living, guilty for the happiness she had felt and guilty for loving Petyr. She wiped the tears away and laid back down, stretching fully - lighting a cigarette. _The past is the past, the future is all that is worth discussing;_ she thought about the words he had told her, she allowed herself a small smile and took a drag, blowing the smoke in the air and watching it rise. 

 

She loved the person she was now. The means by which this had come about had been tragic but _Gods_. She had survived, and was surviving, she would have revenge. She had a man that made her melt at his touch, kissed her as if it would be their last. 

 

The person she had been before had been strong, lovely, brazen, and always running from something. She had done her duty to her family, and had felt as if she had to hide apart of herself away. That wasn’t the case anymore. She felt more tears coming, but laughed and wiped them away. She sat up and shook her hair, took one last hit from her cigarette and stood up to swim.

 

***

 

Petyr walked down to the beach to find all of Sansas things strewn about, but she was no where to be seen. “Sansa?” He yelled, nothing. 

 

“Sans-“ “Petyr, I’m here.” He turned to the water to see her climbing out, dripping with water, pulling the wet hair away from her face.

 

“I was just taking a dip, you should come in with me, the water is wonderful.” 

 

He said nothing, herself stopping only feet away from him, unsure what to make of his expression - sensing he had not come just to keep her company. She twisted strands of wet hair between her fingers, a small blush spreading across her face. Sansa turned away from his stare, looking towards the blue sea. She felt a tug at her wrist.

 

Silently Petyr sat down on Sansas blanket, his fingers wrapped around hers. She paused for a minute and finally, sat next to him.

 

“Petyr, what?” 

 

He continued to stare. Noticing her pack of cigarettes he grabbed one and lit it. He held up the pack to Sansa, tentatively she slid one out as well and holding her cigarette to his own, lit it. They sat in silence for a minute, smoking, listening to the waves and the rustling of the grasses and lush trees behind them. 

 

Petyr emitted a sigh and finally spoke, “Sweetling, I must tell you something, it is my duty to tell you.” 

 

“Duty?” She repeated in a strange tone.

 

“It is a confession of sorts. Please, withhold judgement as much as you can, I do not wish for you to storm off and I never see you again.” 

 

“What is it?” Though Sansa controlled her tone, the words seemed to come out slightly rattled as she spoke. 

 

He sighed, “I knew about your families untimely demise a week beforehand.” 

 

“- I know.” She whispered, looking away. 

 

“And I did nothing to stop it, lest I wanted to be dead myself. But, I could not stop thinking about you Sansa, I could not. I did not sleep that week - at all. I kept trying to think of what I could do. I have been a poor planner when it has come to you and I cannot think straight.” She kept staring, a small smile on her face, though he could see tears beginning to collect on her lashes. 

 

He continued. “I used the one thing I know works to persuade one properly, money. Men know loyalty, though only to those that pay them. So, I had a little talk with one of Joffreys _men_. We discussed what would be happening at the Stark household and that it would be a shame for the oldest daughter to go. Well, it took some convincing and an _exorbitant_ sum of money, but, he would leave you without a bullet in you like the rest of them...” He sighed deeply. “And then, I would come to collect you.” 

 

Sansa was in complete tears, her head tucked between her legs. He didn’t touch her, just stared ahead, wondering what the fuck would happen next, if she would become angry and spiteful. He had no control and it pained him. She cried for what seemed like ages and after a time, lifted her head, wiping away her tears. 

 

“Gods, Petyr, that is so fucked up!” She fell back into the blanket and covered her eyes. After another moment she finally spoke, her voice raspy - cracking, “How much?” He looked down at her, her chest rising and falling, her wet hair around her, sand clinging to it. Her big blue eyes piercing his own. He wanted to kiss her but kept still. 

 

“ _How much Petyr?”_ She said it again, this time her tone cold and hardened. 

 

“Sansa, I cannot tell you, I cannot. I hope you can live with that - it was more than I could ever say. _And,_ I am not saying that just to quiet you.” He eyed her. Braking her stare she looked off at the ocean. 

 

“So I really, I am property - an _investment?_ ” Petyr looked at her but she seemed to be saying it more to herself than him. 

 

“Truthfully, in the beginning, yes. But not now.” He turned and placed his hand on her hip, she stared up at him. “I mean, you are mine but not in that sense. And, I am yours.” She closed her eyes to him, more tears spilling down her face. He leaned in and tried to kiss her but she placed her hand in front of his face. He pulled back as she sat up. 

 

Sansa sighed, “This is going to be more fucked up then what you told me.” She paused, moving to kneel, her hands resting on her thighs. Sansas face close to his, their noses almost touching. 

 

She breathed in deeply, her blue eyes burning; “But that is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.” With that she crushed herself into him and he fell backwards, Sansa on top of him, running her hands through his hair, kissing and pressing herself against him.

 

He released himself, their eyes drinking each other in, “It is, isn’t it?” He noted with a smirk.

 

She sighed and laid her head on his chest, speaking into his neck with a wry smile, “I have Stockholm Syndrome bad, really bad.” Petyr tugged her head up and looked at her hard for a moment, his tone growing serious, “Sansa, you can leave at anytime, I swear it, whenever, wherever, however much, I promise you - though it would kill me, I would do that for you. I don’t wish to entrap you anymore."

 

He wrapped his arms around her tightly as they laid on the beach. Her head on his chest, his hand making small circles on her back and hip. After a few minutes she raised herself up, finding herself above him, staring into his grey-green eyes. As he stared he felt herself straddle him. His smile changed.

 

She began kissing his neck, pressing herself into him again, her hips moving slowly. “Sansa?” 

 

“Yes?” She responded in a heated whisper; “What if someone was to see?” He mused, finding it harder to be concerned.

 

She stopped for a minute and looked at him; “What if I don’t care?” He chuckled and pulled her close.

 

They kissed each other deeply, Petyr shifting himself so now Sansa was underneath him, her hand on the collar of his shirt, the other on his back. He slid his hand under her thigh, lifting it up, feeling the length of her smooth limb and moving himself closer to her. She pressed her center against him. His hand found her breast through the side of her one piece. Sansa arching her back, adjusting herself. She felt his hand leave her breast and move down her abdomen, only to rest at her sex. They kissed and moved against each other a little bit longer till she felt him slide inside her, pushing the fabric of her suit aside, his fingers firm, their movement making her gasp out in pleasure. He looked to see her heightened colour, her head leaning back - exposing her long neck, her nipples hardened.

 

His fingers pulled away as he gripped her waist, placing her on top of him again, Sansa shrieking playfully with the sudden switch. With a quick movement she had unbuttoned his linen trousers, guiding himself into her wetness, a gasp slipping from her lips at their connection. He found himself holding her close as she moved on top of him, their kisses frantic, moans escaping each others lips. As he gripped her tighter her gasps became sharper, he found Sansa running her hands through hair, scraping his scalp. Finally she let out a heady moan, her body molding to his own and he felt her heat rush over him as he was still moving inside her. Soon after he came, both refusing to move. Petyr felt her laughing as she pulled away from him, himself sliding his trousers back up. 

 

“Oh Gods, I fucked you on a beach.” He gave her a deep kiss and she gasped. Both her hands rested on either side of his head, digging into the warm sand. They stared  at each other, wondering who would speak first. Sansas smile broke first, "Now what?"

 

"Hmm?" He looked up and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She repeated the words. 

 

"Depends on what you do." Sansa sighed, "“Petyr, what if I don’t want to leave... I, I'm still trying to process my  _purchase._  But all I know is I don't wish to leave you... is, is there something,  _else_?"

 

He gave a small laugh, his body relaxing. "No. We just move _forward_ \- with all of it." 

 

"All of it?" She arched her eyebrow. "All of it, my love." 

 

She allowed herself a small smirk, lowering herself for another kiss. Releasing herself, Sansa lifted her face only an inch, her lips still brushing his; "I will never know how much, will I?"

 

He shook his head, "Sweetling,  _never_. You cannot know how much you mean to me. Only one other soul knew and he has been afforded the best type of silence - death."

 

Though unsatisfied she sensed the finality of their conversation; "Fine." She huffed and stood up, brushing off some sand, running her hands through her hair. Petyr stood and pulled her close, their faces only inches apart. "Sansa, please. I must keep this to myself, and only this - I promise you." 

 

Sighing, she leaned into his chest, taking in his scent, closing her eyes. She felt his arms snake around her waist - her body relaxing. "Alright." Her words were muffled. "I am not too keen on it, I just don't want to feel like an, _investment_." 

 

"You are - the best one I've made." Sansa pushed him, "Fuck you." she gave a small laugh. Petyr tugged at her wrist one more time and pulled her close, "And you know I hate  _bad investments._ " He kissed her neck and released her. 

 

Though he had expressed the sentiment under different circumstances, this time it held a playful tone. Nothing menacing or implied. She stepped into the water and dipping her hands into the warm water, ran them over her thighs - cleaning off the remnants of their love-making; 

 

“I will finish at the room -” Sansa turned around to eye him as he picked up her things. They walked back up to the rooms, his arm around her, Sansa leaning into his shoulder. 

 

***

 

Tyrion saw them as they walked back up, eyeing Petyrs wrinkled trousers and the look on Sansas face. “It looks like that went better than expected?” 

 

Petyr laughed and watched Sansa step into their room to shower, she turned to look at the men “Yes, it did. I say we celebrate and get completely drunk. The Seven know we all need it...” 

 

That night, one of the cooks came to their suites to cook in the large kitchen that had been provided for them for such occasions. They had a meal of all types of shellfish and seafood, fresh vegetables, perfectly ripened fruit and a local rice dish. All three of them had rested and cleaned up before the late meal, Sansa in a silken emerald trapeze dress that showed off her smooth white back, sides and long legs, the two men in linen shirts and pants, their sleeves rolled up. After the plates were cleared, Tyrion disappeared only to reappear with two bottles of the local liquor and setting them on the table in front of Petyr and Sansa. Sansa laughed as they had already been drinking chilled wine with their meal. 

 

“Tyrion, I know you are a man that can hold his drink, but be warned, I’ve had my share and, I am a Stark.” 

 

“I would like to see you best me madam.” He chuckled.

 

“I don’t plan on beating you, but be forewarned, this will be a long night.” Sansa retorted with an arched eyebrow. 

 

As they settled themselves, Tryion also produced three small glasses, popping the first bottle, he filled all three, handling the first glass to Petyr.

 

“We are not doing this alone, you _will_ partake” Petyr turned to Sansa with a grimace and she kissed him, giving him an earnest stare.

 

“...I guess I will.” He said with a reluctant smirk. They all clinked the little glasses in cheers, slamming the glasses on the table once they had emptied them. This time Petyr refilled them. 

 

“Lets make this - interesting.” Said Tyrion. He had found a lime and was cutting it up, throwing the halves into a small bowl on the table.

 

“A twenty-questions of sorts, nothing too scandalous since one of us is a murderer, the other a whoremonger and the other, a supposed dead girl.” 

 

“Ok…” said Sansa lifting up her little glass, a playful smile on her lips, “When did you lose your virginity?” 

 

Tyron drank his first, “Fourteen, and to a whore, _surprise._ ” His glass clinked on the table, Sansa refilling it and lifting her own, 

 

"... I was 17. Nothing too salacious, I promise you.” She emptied her glass and refilled it. 

 

Petyr sighed, “I suppose its my turn… but you all know to _whom_ and _when._ ” His glass was emptied and Sansa filled his, giving him a side-ways smile as Tyrion laughed; Lysa Arryn had never been one to be quiet regarding her infatuation with Littlefinger, nevermind one person in the equation not too happy with how things had turned out in their younger days.

 

“Next question.” Said Tyrion, ‘Who is the oldest person you’ve dated, _fucking optional._ ” He looked directly at Sansa.

 

She lifted her glass, “It wasn’t him” She noted, motioning to Petyr; Tyrion chuckled. “And I didn’t sleep with him either.” She tilted her head back and emptied the glass, setting it down on the wooden table. “He was 40, sorry my love” Sansa responded, looking at directly at Petyr. 

 

“ - And who was this gentleman?” Tyrion cut in. “He was a detective and had been to the house a couple times, he called me using my number from the file.” Petyr allowed himself a small laugh, “It's alright, you're mine now.” They kissed, Tyrion grimaced.

 

“Now its your turn.” Sansa said motioning to the two men, as Petyr filled her glass, his hand on her bare thigh. 

 

“Myself, She was 44, I was 27 - and, she was not a whore.” Tryion stated, again emptying his glass, watching as it was quickly refilled. 

 

“Last again, but nothing too exceptional. She was 36, I was 36.” Petyr emptied the glass. 

 

The evening went on like this for another 4 hours, the drinking of course continuing but slowing its pace. Petyr had not been drunk in years, the last time - University. of course, it had been months for Sansa; In her past life she had imbibed quite regularly. And of course Tyrion, who hadn’t been that drunk since his first night in Meereen, only days ago.

 

Petyr actually enjoyed himself, the three of them talking and laughing. Speaking from the absurd to the serious. The night ending with Sansa jumping into the pool with her clothes on, dragging Petyr behind her. Tyrion observing from his lounge chair as the two played in the water and found themselves pressing against the other, kissing. It would only stop when Tyrion yelled he didn’t mind watching (again) as if to remind them of his presence. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrions final day with Sansa and Petyr. Some Fluff _and_ some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made up for my lack of posting, with a lengthy chapter - and because I am a trash baby, I threw in some trash and lit a match. _I hope you enjoy_. 
> 
> Comments always appreciated! I think I'm getting back into the swing of writing (and got over a little writing hump with this fic) so look forward to more updates from me soon on this and my other works. 
> 
> I ♡ (and missed) you all. Thank you for reading!

Petyr awoke to a splitting headache, squinting his eyes against the bright light filling the room. He slowly stood up, palming at the small controller resting on the beside table, curtains closing with the press of a button; the room growing dark. Walking to the en-suite washroom and drinking several glasses of water he stood at the foot of the bed, observing his bed-mate, Sansa sated with sleep, full lips slightly parted, hair mussed and pooling all around her, one arm tucked under the pillows. The other hand, gently resting against her hip, pale skin exposed to the darkened room, blankets tangled around her hips and long legs.

 

After a time, with an ineffable expression written across his face; he crawled across the mattress, laying down and pulling her naked body close. Sansa form reacting to his touch; arms reaching out, her head shifting to rest in the crook of his neck, her breasts pressed against him. Petyr himself snaking his arms around her lithe figure, resting his head against her brownish locks. Through the smell of chlorine he could still smell sandalwood and jasmine.

 

Sansa continued to sleep, her body molding itself to his. Running his fingers through her hair, his hands traveling along smooth skin, lifting her slender limbs to kiss her fingers. Petyr could hear her sigh, her hips gently rolling, leg snaking itself between his own. He moaned quietly at the deepening press of their two bodies, though nestling himself into the soft blankets, just wishing to observe the woman in his arms - pushing away his deepening desire.

 

His eyes continued to roam her ivory skin, the familiar contours of her frame. Petyrs eyes slowly coming to rest on the ring he had given her, the pale yellow diamond winking in the dark. _Quite the fucking diamond for their ruse_. He thought about Sansa, her particular tastes;  _I would’ve gotten her something different - the ring on her finger for another woman._  His thoughts continued to wander, pleasant ' _what if's'_ drifting in and out of his mind. If he had asked her to dance at the Baratheon estate nearly three years ago they could have been married now, _p_ _l_ _enty of time to court her, and to hell with the dissenters. Family included; a different ring, a different life_. They would have been spared their own superfluous actions - It would have spared Sansa the unnecessary heartache. But things were not different, and the past long gone. He had her now, she had him - neither wanting to leave the other. He kissed her soft skin and managed to rise, leaving her to sleep undisturbed. 

 

* * *

  

Hours later, Sansa awoke in the darkened room turning to find Petyr, fully clothed and awake, seated on the edge of their bed. His eyes roaming over her naked body. Rubbing at her skin she managed to whisper, “Good morning Petyr. What’s with the clothes?” Though her voice was raspy, heavy with sleep. She sat up, weight on her elbows, staring at the man in front of her. 

 

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, “I ran an errand.” He felt her shift and slide off the bed to the washroom where Sansa repeated his earlier routine. She sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her nude form against his. Feeling his hand gently rest against her temple, he leaned in to kiss her her neck. Closing her eyes to his touch Sansa lowered him onto the sheets, pressing her hand against his chest, her other arm cradling her head. 

 

“An errand?” She mewed. “Yes, I ran into town for something.” He said with a low voice, between his kisses.

 

“Are you going to tell me?” She whispered, her eyebrow quirking at the unreadable expression drifting across his sharp features. 

 

“Of course my love, _I would never hide anything from you_.” She gave him a dry laugh, he smiled. He pulled away, his hands leaving her naked skin to dig into his front pocket.

 

“Close your eyes.” He had found what he was looking for.

 

Sansa closed them, noting the hint of anxiety the at edge of his voice, how it had dropped an octave. Instead of the kisses she was expecting; she felt the featherlight pressure of something resting on her hip.

 

Petyr spoke softly, “You can open them now.”

 

Sansa eyes opened to a small box perched atop her naked skin. She gave Petyr a sideways glance, himself giving her a slight nod. Sansa took the little box in her hands though didn’t open it. _She didn’t want to open it_ \- _yet._ She could hear her increasing heartbeat, the pumping of blood ringing in her eyes, the rising and falling of her chest, an obvious blush creeping across her pale face. Looking up through her lashes she eyed him, his stare - full of anticipation, fear clinging to the edges - if only for a moment.  _Something she had never seen before._

 

He noted her inaction "It won't bite my love." Looking to the box, her breath catching in her throat she opened it. Nestled in the black velvet of the box was a beautiful ring. A silver band, holding a large rectangular-cut sapphire of the deepest blue. Emitting from the sapphire were little silver bands inlaid with tiny winking diamonds, fanning around the gem to create a lovely oval shape. Diamonds edging the oval, framing the blue stone.

 

“ _W_ _hat is thi -_ ” Petyr cut her off, his lips pressing against hers, taking her left hand into his. She could feel him slide her yellow diamond ring off of her finger, a little clink as he set it on the side table.

 

“Sansa.” He started, taking the sapphire ring from the little box; “Will you marry me?” She turned away, it all too surreal, _a dream rather_ , tears catching to the ends of her lashes.

 

She felt his warm breath against her neck, hands pulling at her slender fingers, the sensation of the cool metal on her ring finger. Sansa finally turned, her eyes catching the beautiful ring, looking up to meet his own stare. He seemed, still - breathless. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brushed her lips against his; a tiny moan escaping. Her pale thighs shifting to straddle him, she could feel his hands gently resting at her waist, pressing against her warm skin, Sansas back arching in response. "Really?" Sansa's voice was tiny and quiet, fearful and hesitant.

 

She felt his grip increase with her words, "I thought we were past this." His voice low, almost a growl against her ear. 

 

She turned away slightly, eyes closing, he continued; “Sansa, I want you, I need you. I would do anything for you - kill, fuck over anyone who would wish to harm you. Whatever you desire; I would deny you nothing. _Deny my wife nothing._ " She met his stare, his unblinking features.

 

Silently she looked up, full lips meeting his open mouth, at the contact she felt a smile grow; his kiss deepening. With her parting lips she sighed, his own tongue snaking into her open mouth. Petyrs hands leaving her waist, taking purchase along her jaw. They pulled apart after a few moments; Sansa watching his dilating pupils, dark with lust, Petyr running his thumb along her swollen lips, watching her eyes take him in.

 

She gave a tiny moan, he kissed her again, his arousal and frustration growing. Sansa shifted her naked thighs, closing her eyes at the movement of her hips against his growing hardness. Running her fingers through his hair she pressed her mouth to his ear, her words spilling out in a gasp, ""Petyr, I -" "- I need a yes or no." With that he flipped her on her back, pressing his groin into her hips, hand drifting from her neck to grip at her hip, Sansa pressing her center against him. " _Ahh_ , yes" She gasped, her hands tugging at his shirt, slipping underneath the fabric to run her nails against the bare flesh.

 

He gave a slight hiss and kissed her, " _Say it again_." Sansa gave a slight huff, though it ended in a moan as his mouth found her naked breast, strong hands pressing her to his form. "Yes, I will marry you. Gods..." She was breathless, body taught with arousal. "Please _, your wife needs you to fuck her. Now._ " He grabbed at her hand, kissing the burning skin, pressing it into the sheets above her.

 

"Please." She whispered, "-  _I need you Petyr._ " Groaning, his hand traveled to her folds, the wetness coating his fingers as he rubbed her center; her hips lifting to chase his touch. He watched her face as he pleasured her, the flush of her cheeks, the moisture clinging to her lips, the fluttering of her long lashes; he let his head fall into her neck, " _Don't you need me_?" She moaned quietly against his burning skin. 

 

He pulled away and looked into her blue eyes, filled with want. " _Always_." Sansa raised her hands to grip at his shirt, tugging at the buttons, wishing to remove any barrier that lay between them.

 

Petyr pulled his hands away from her burning sex, pulling away his shirt, unzipping his trousers. Her hands sliding between skin and fabric, running her hands along his stiffened cock, smearing the pre-cum against his tip with her thumb. He shuddered, finally removing his remaining clothing; both groaning at the contact of their naked flesh, hips pressing and moving together, her soaked core pressed against his length. " _Sansa._ " He moaned, " - Oh god." With that he slid inside her, the obscene sound of her wetness against his organ hung in the room.

 

He thrust deeply, filling her to the hilt, her back arching. " _Petyr - fuck_." He pulled out slowly, both bodies reacting with a shudder.

 

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his hand as he pressed it against her cheek and with another slow and torturous thrust Sansa parted her lips, gasping. Petyr leaned down to press his mouth to hers, biting at her lower lip, groaning against her skin. Their breathing quickly grew labored, skin damp with sweat, their movements deliberate; savoring every second of contact, every nerve ending alight. With a deep thrust, Sansa gasped, " _I love you._ " He pulled out slowly - another thrust. "And I love you, my little wife." They kissed, resting their foreheads against the other. 

 

With their continued machinations, Sansa dug her fingernails into Petyrs bare back, himself groaning at the pressure - his arousal reaching its peak, his body aching, with each thrust - a shudder. " _I need you to cum my love_." He panted, Sansa whimpering in response, his hands running under her thigh, gripping the soft flesh, the changing angle making Sansa arch her back and cry out. With a thrust he felt her contracting around his length, the spreading warmth - the smell of her arousal clouding his senses. She pressed her lips to his, gasping through their arduous kissing. With a final deep thrust he filled her, his seed filling her, his own body growing heavy. 

 

They couldn't remove themselves, lying still, their breathing the only sounds to be heard. She lifted her head to kiss his lips, along his jaw, kissing the skin above his scar. Sansa sunk her head back into the soft blankets, and with an impassioned sigh she felt his kiss against her closed eyelids, along her flushed cheeks, atop her red lips. Sansa purred at the touch, feeling a smirk against her skin and a low chuckle coming from Petyr. "Can't we just stay in bed all day? Please?" She mewed, lips in a mock pout. "Already forgetting our guest?' He murmured against her jaw. " _It seemed for a second that y_ _ou and I had larger concerns_ , I forgot _."_

 

Sansa shifted her hips underneath him, pressing against his groin. Petyr growled, nipping at her neck; Sansa squealed, wrapping her soft thighs around his waist, arching her back. "Gods woman, you will be the death of me." She pressed her hands to his bare chest, running her fingers along his warm skin, making soft circles. 

 

"If my wish is for you to die between my thighs." She mused, her soft open mouth meeting his with an ardent press. He responded with another deep kiss, their bodies responding, the press of their hips deepening. 

 

"I couldn't ask for a better death." She laughed, leaning her head back, Petyr reaching to run his fingers through her hair. Their eyes met and they stared in silence for a moment, Sansa breaking the silence with a small kiss. 

 

"Why?" Her voice was quiet, though playful. Looking up, afraid her stare would be met with frustration, smiled as it was met with something entirely different, something she couldn't place. 

 

He arched his eyebrow; "Why -?" "Why ask me to marry you Petyr?  _Technically were already married... your doing remember?_ " He pulled at her hand and kissed her palm, fingering the soft skin. 

 

" _Alyane and Petyr are married, Sansa._ " "- But..." She countered; " - Selfish reasons Sansa." He noted against her skin silencing her with a kiss.

 

"That I want no other man to touch you; to touch _whats so clearly mine_." Petyr looking her over with a lascivious stare, "That you have ruined me from ever enjoying another woman... that I enjoy and _take great pleasure from you_." His expression softened, their faces only an inch apart. Petyr pressed his mouth to her ear, "And I do love you Sansa, more than I would care to admit." 

 

His hand now rested against her cheek, Sansa kissing his warm palm, laying her hand a top his. "All very good things and -  _the feeling is mutual_ _._ But you forgot something." She tilted her head up, kissing his jaw. "Hmm?" 

 

"That we work _quite_ well together." He chuckled, "Agreed my love." 

 

* * *

 

Tyrion woke up to the worst headache he had in years, and frankly, still feeling drunk. Stumbling to the washroom he retched, grabbing a glass of water and sloppily consuming it, feeling the water run down his face and chin. He laid on the soft rug a top the tiled floor, straining to hear if there was movement outside. It was quiet. Pulling himself to the counter he grabbed his watch, _11:30._ Groaning he stood and walked to the kitchen area. _Petyr and Sansa no where to be found_ , though peering through the doors of the bedroom he found their sheets an in absolute mess. Petyrs clothes strewn all over the floor. Listening closely he could hear a shower running.

 

Shrugging he continued his pilgrimage to the kitchen fixing himself a coffee, pouring bourbon into the warm liquid and resting on the couch in the sitting area across from the kitchen. Savoring the silence, this thoughts wandered. It was his last day with these two and it saddened him a little, though he was glad to be leaving. Sansa had convinced Petyr to extend some generosity his way - giving Tyrion a decent sum of cash and finding him living quarters in Meereen for in he could drink himself to death. _Though nothing from Littlefinger came without a price_ \- and he was waiting for it. Sansa may have been happy with her and Petyrs  _payment arrangement_ , but Tyrion was uneasy with the scales leaning too far in the mans favor.  

 

Looking up he heard the soft ringing of laughter and flirtatious whispers. As they entered the room, Petyr had already pressed Sansa against the wall, the two kissing deeply - unaware of his presence.

 

“Ahem” Tryion cleared his throat, loudly. The two finally stopping; reluctantly. “Good morning” Sansa mused, walking over and kissing him on the cheek. He could smell the mint from Petyrs mouth on her.

 

“Morning mistress lovely." The dry words falling from his bourbon stained lips. Getting up he sat himself at the table near Sansa. Looking up, he noted the stares shared between Petyr and Sansa; lascivious and predatory. Petyr placed a porcelain cup in front of her, the two sharing another deep kiss, Tyrion looking away with a rough cough, deciding to face the couple when he thought they were thoroughly finished.

 

“So.” He noted loudly, almost looking surprised at the tone in his voice. “I must express my sincere gratitude for my treatment these past two days - _it's_ _almost a pity to be leaving so soon._ But it seems you two are more than ready to be rid of my pleasant company.” Sansa gave a sweet smile, Petyr staring back, his ever present smirk had returned.

 

“ _Anytime my friend_.” The man noted in a low tone, “But before you go, I have to ask -” “Ah, this is what I was waiting for. _My payment.”_ Tyrion chuckled, pushing the cup away from his hands, crossing his arms a top the polished wood. Sansa silent, watching, blue eyes darting between the two parties.

 

“I would hate to think I put such a _price_ on our friendship but - I am curious.”

 

“Curious of what Petyr? I’m sure you hold many a curiosity on all manners of things, _especially_ when it comes to my family.”

 

Petyr chuckled, placing his hand on Sansas thigh, fingers drifting across silken fabric; “It might surprise you in truth how little curiosity I do hold for the Lannisters. Maybe I once did for your father but Jaime? Cersei? Joffrey? No. You - A little. The lot of you far too predictable to hold my attention. But, I am curious, _find it curious_ how quickly you managed to flee Kings Landing. You know better than I do that Tyrion Lannister just doesn’t disappear.”

 

“Now things suddenly become so clear.” Tyrion drank deeply from his mug before continuing, “Well, until _very recently_ -” Tyrion looked at Sansa with a raised eyebrow, “That _family, affection, love even_? They do mean something to some people, and one person felt he had a debt to pay, even above _brotherly_ obligations.” Tyrion watched the man sitting across from him, Petyrs eyes narrowing, a smile on his face that refused to meet his eyes.

 

“Ah. So the man decided to do something honorable. Though that seems a little skewed, seeing as how you did murder your father and former lover." 

 

"What can I say, I saw red, I was/am tired _of all of it_ \- and that man was terribly unapologetic about sleeping with a women I loved." 

 

"So he smuggled you out - " "A Lannister always pays his debts. Though I think he was understanding. You knew Tywin as much as the next man, brilliant, but an awful man and terrible father."

 

" _Besides his children, and grandchild_." Sansa spat out, cutting between the two men. "You, Tommen and Myrcella being the exceptions." She noted sweetly, her slender fingers twirling a strand of her dyed locks. 

 

" _That lovely Stark charm I so sorely missed_." He looked down at the table, exhausted, hungover - but continued. "I won't deny it. We are terrible. All the things they've - we've done. Jaime is a man with a very guilty conscience, trying to do _right._ "

 

"A rather recent development it would seem." Petyr noted in a dry tone. "Indeed my friend. Is it too little too late?" Neither broke their stare. Petyr cleared his throat, "Tell me, what else does he have planned, what has he done -  _beyond the things all three of us are already aware of."_

 

"What else could there be Littlefinger? Fucking his own sister, siring children of out incest, sitting aside and doing nothing while his own sister and  _nephew_ plan on burning the city to the ground? What more could he plan or even anticipate?"

 

"Tyrion, I thought Cersei and Jaime weren't  _fucking_ anymore." Sansa quipped, "They aren't." He shrugged and turned to stare at the view through the glass, his mind suddenly very far away. "I will enjoy getting used to this place. Away from all of them, from that life - you, and _you_. All so poisonous." 

 

"And you aren't?" She noted in a quiet voice. "I never said that my dear. I meant no offense either"

 

"None taken." Sansa whispered. 

 

"Do the Lannisters have anything on the horizon?" Petyr cut in between the two of them, not wanting things to grow sentimental as things were apt to between Sansa and Tyrion. He wanted things done, Tyrion gone with his information all dried up, to finally enjoy Sansa alone and uninhibited for the remainder of their holiday. 

 

"The funeral, the wedding, Jaime frankly has no head for business, Cersei is a drunk, thinking herself far more clever than she is and then, there is  _Joffrey._ Confused really, verbally noting you have power doesn't actually give you power; he is just a little prick with too much lining this pockets and a sadistic streak reserved for the likes of a serial kiiler. Voila,  _My family._ " With that, he pulled the bourbon bottle closer to him, the glass on wood being the only sound heard, his two companions silent. The unpopping of the cork, his drinking from the bottle and the smacking of his lips. 

 

"Is that all?" Petyr cut through the silence. "Yes, just sheep thinking they are lions is all. Do what either of you must -  _you have my blessing._ There are far better people suited to shape things back home, and I leave them to it." He raised his eyebrows at the blue and green-grey eyes staring back. "They will do  _wonderfully._ " Tyrion chuckled and slid off the bench walking through the doors onto the sun-warmed patio. 

 

"Enlightening." Petyr chuckled, "Hardly." Sansa noted roundly, sliding over towards the man, feeling his strong arms pulling her into his lap. Eyes now parallel and only spaces apart. 

 

"Do you feel a hint of pity?" He arched an eyebrow at his partner, watching her eyes drifting across his features. "No - it's just, so,  _depressing._ All of it - all of them, such terrible, wicked people. Being away from all of it, makes it all seem so exhausting." 

  
"And how else would it be? My love, all of this, this is your life, and these people - you will see them lose at a game they though they could win; and I will fuck them all in the end." She felt his hand dip into the small of her back, making circles against the silk. She closed her eyes arching her back slightly, pressing her breasts against him, "And you will help me sweetling." He kissed her again, " _We will fuck them_." She sat up, tugging at his collar pulling herself towards his face, their noses touching. A smile creeping across her face.

 

"Yes; and, we have someones blessing. _How generous_." She purred. He kissed the pale column of her neck, watching her chest rising, the fluttering of her eyelashes with her closing eyes.

 

With a kiss, Sansa slid off his lap, walking herself out onto the patio, not before looking over her shoulders, a flash of desire stealing across her face. Out in the sunlight, raising her arms above her head, stretching, her slender limbs arching, her head tilting back. Even with these little movements, Sansa carried herself with a grace of a queen.  _His little queen_. 

And in a few hours he would be able to enjoy her, unmolested.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Tyrions' few remaining hours were spent in relative comfort and solitude; the three separating - lost in their own thoughts. Tyrion at the beach, a bottle of wine; Sansa lounging under an umbrella by the pool, staring into the deep blue expanse of Slavers Bay. In fleeting moments of weakness holding out her left hand to stare at the ring on her finger, how it caught the light, it's perfect fit - the subsequent smile on her lips and Petyr: working and pacing, cigarette in hand. After a time he sat himself next to his lover, placing himself between her legs, leaning into her warm figure, both sitting in silence as she ran her fingers through his hair, kissing the bare skin of his neck.

 

* * *

 

He sat in the dim sitting area, suitcase by his feet, bills neatly lining the case, another small bag of personal items haphazardly tossed next to the more _pertinent_ case. He looked up to find the other man seating himself across from him, his hand out - a glass clinking with ice cubes passed his way. Tyrion taking it, raising it in a mock toast before taking a long drink. 

 

“So, I expect you two will make good time of this little _holiday_?” Petyr only arched his eyebrow in response as he himself took a long drink of scotch as well.

 

Finally speaking, he noted in a dry tone; "It won’t be all fun.” Tyrion nodded, looking down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid. "Hmm... I suppose you aren’t one to be wasteful with your time. Plotting, musing, whatever you would like to call it.” A smirking face being his only response.

 

“I heard my nephew will be having his stag party at your,  _establishment_  in a few weeks time. To be quite the event? I know Cersei and her bastard son were keen to spare no expense.” Tyrion eyed Baelish; “That, you are correct. _No expense spared_ _._ The best of everything for Joffrey _. A fond farewell_ to bachelorhood.”

 

“And, how does your _bride_ feel about this little event? Seeing as her and Joffrey are on such pleasant terms.”

 

“- Sansa is planning on making the most of it. Maybe even making an appearance.” Petyrs smile grew. Tyrion slowly nodded in response, reading between the lines. “Well just don’t throw her to the lions. The boy may be an idiot, but he is also a devious little prick. I would hate to see her harmed.”

 

“She won’t be” Petyr noted shortly. “ _Certain precautions are to be taken_.”

 

“And if that doesn’t work? A plan B?” With a hard stare Petyr set his drink a top the wooden table, a loud click cutting the silence. The man leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees his head resting atop clasped hands. He was ready to speak; “- Then, just a simple gun to the head. It would be messy, not my preferred method but as I said, he will not harm her. _I won’t allow it_.” His tone was finite, features unmoving and harsh.  

 

As if on cue, he looked up. A smile growing across his features  _reaching his eyes,_  his body relaxingas Sansa entered the room. Her hair damp from a recent shower, body wrapped in a blue silk dress, a long slit nearly to her hips, exposing the pale skin of her thighs.

 

“Gentleman.” She smiled, a knowing stare. Tyrion looked to her, returning the smile, a hint of worry.

 

She ran her hands along his shoulder in greeting before seating herself next to Peytr, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer. Placing her hand on his chest, she smiled and leaned in for a chaste kiss. She turned back to their guest.

 

“I am sad to see you leaving us Tyrion.”

 

“Such a good hostess, and an _excellent liar._ ” She laughed. “Your, your…” he waved his hand at Petyr, unable to place what his _title_ would be in Sansas life, husband sounding strange and foreign to him. “Anyway, we were discussing the upcoming _party_ at the club.” “Yes.” She straightened her shoulders, he noted her fingers flexing against her partners chest, Baelishs hand reaching up to clasp hers as if to calm her.

 

“Yes, _Joffreys_ party. Should be eventful.” “So I hear.” He murmured, taking another long drink.

 

Sansa could only nod. “I don’t want to know but I wish I was there to see it.” With that, Tyrion set his glass down and abruptly stood up. The other two rising as well. Walking towards the door, the light of a cab could be seen shining through the windows, signaling his departure. Bags in hand he stood outside staring at Sansa for a moment while Petyr chatted with the driver, placing several bills in the mans open palms.

 

They looked at each other. “You will do… wonderfully. I hope it brings you some satisfaction, I can’t say it brought me anything - but then, you aren't a sad drunk.” Sansa smiled and hugged the man, “Thank you Tyrion. Good luck.”

 

“Goodbye my lady. I never thought I would say this is my lifetime but you are… in good hands. I would hate to think what he would do if you were harmed.”

 

“I know.” She had gained some of her coyness back, turning at the touch of Petyrs hand at her hip, leaning into him, giving Tyrion a small smile as he got into the cab.

 

They watched the car pull away, silently standing in the dark. She felt his other hand grip her, she let her muscles relax - feeling a smile against her skin. “And then there were two.” Petyr kissed her warm skin.

 

“Always.” Was all she could note in response, her mind a flutter at what she was to do in nearly a months time.

 

Revenge so close she could almost reach out and touch it. She could sense Petyr growing impatient at her side, she turned, finding herself in his arms. “Tell me I will do wonderfully.” She kissed him. “Ah, you will do better than that, my little Lady Macbeth.” She smirked, feeling his kiss against her jaw, eyes half closed. “You are strong, _and with quite the teacher -_ ” “Such a flatterer.” She felt his tongue against her skin, her grip tightening on his arms, her back slightly arching.

 

“I won’t allow anything to happen to you.” His words were quiet, muffled against the skin of her neck, his kisses to her lips, her eyelids. “Good.” She sighed, Petyrs arms snaking around her middle, feeling his hands running along her bottom, lifting her off the ground, her thighs now wrapped around his waist. “Petyr -” She whispered, a smile growing.

 

Wrapping her owns around his neck, she kissed him deeply, a gyration of her hips; “Please take me inside, I want my husband to make love to me -” Her lips moving across his neck, whispering into his ear; “ _and m_ _ake me feel good_.”

 

He groaned, kissing at her collarbone; “You know I can deny you nothing - particularly such a request.” Turning, he walked them into the house, slapping her bottom. Sansa shrieking in surprise against his neck, himself laughing. 

 

* * *

 

Alone. Finally alone -  _with his wife_. For three blissful weeks they would be alone, with only the other to enjoy - to keep each other company. Their habitating in Kings Landing had weighed heavily on Sansas shoulders. A shroud of death, anger, and resentment wrapping itself tightly around her. Now away from that god-forsaken city, from every little reminder of what had been, she carried herself in a graceful, delicate, even sure-footed manner, the sharp edges of her person dulled, eager to be remoulded. Every bit of Petyrs self drank in, absorbed these nuances,  _her lightness of being_ , and was hungry for it. Wishing every night to unravel her, tease, satiate the smoldering desire they carried for each other. The two of them pressing and moving against the other as if it were their last night on earth, stripping the other to nothing but their most base mechanisms. 

 

\------

 

He leaned against one of the lounge chairs. Head leaned back, eyes closed, cigarette burning in his right hand. The early morning air was warm and humid, a steady breeze blowing through. Bringing the cigarette to his mouth he took a long drag, savoring the slight burn in his throat, the smell - the sensation of relaxation that followed. At the sound of footsteps, he opened one eye, smirking at the sight of the long, pale legs that had entered his view; looking up to eye the woman in an emerald one-piece _that held little to the imagination_.

 

“You may want to cover up sweetling.” He noted dryly with an arched eyebrow, another long drag, tendrils of smoke hanging in air. His left hand reaching out to the women in front of him, fingers grazing her waist, touching bare skin.

 

She stepped into his touch, resting her hand on the back of the lounge chair to lean forward, her tousled waves falling into his face, both now merely inches apart. “And why is that my love.” She purred, hand resting on his chest, slowly raising her hand to grasp at the fine linen of his collar. Blue eyes observing as his eyes followed hers, his smile growing; “Because I am such a louse.” He quickly tugged at her waist, pulling her close - body now fully flush with his.

 

She squealed in slight surprise and bit at her lip, hands running themselves through his hair. “Sounds like a better word for pervert.” He chuckled and kissed at her neck, “Point taken. But my love,  _your figure is quite distracting_.” She laughed against his skin, leaning into his touch.

 

“ _What if I wanted you distracted_? I want to be your _only_ distraction for the remainder of this holiday.” She looked over to the phone resting on the table beside them, turning to stare into his green eyes.

 

He kissed her full on the mouth, her lips parting instinctively. She managed to pull away with narrowed eyes, pupils slightly dilated in arousal. “Don’t silence me.”

 

“Your distractions are very effective.” He smirked.

 

“But really, things are in place - where they should be Petyr. Ready for when we return.” She placed her hand under his chin, gently raising his head, “A credit to your constant attentions, unrepentant regard to detail _and thorough planning_." She smirked as "You have coaxed things along well enough - now the rest, needs to develop organically” She kissed him, pulling away to stare into his eyes. Both watching the other taking in deepening breaths.

  

After a time she leaned in with darkened eyes, pressing herself gently into his frame. She felt his grip tighten around her waist, fingers digging into her parted thighs and sighed. Her lips grazing his ear, her fingers making slow work of the buttons on his linen shirt, exposing a strip of bare skin, his breathing growing heavy and slow; “ _Everything._ Enjoy it.” He sucked in his breath as she laved her tongue against his pulse point, her kisses against his burning skin.

 

“For now, I will enjoy you, _as you have instructed_.” She tilted her head back, a small laugh, himself smirking - soaking in her apparent lightness of being.

 

His fingers ran themselves down her arms, resting at her waist, feeling the soft skin of her back. Sansa settled herself atop the lounge chair, hands resting on her knees, looking at him through her lashes, “But truly, Petyr, when have you actually enjoyed all you’ve accumulated?” He looked up, “Sweetling, it never was about enjoyment. But -” He sucked in a breath with another tug, pulling his wife closer, her hands running themselves down his bare skin, grazing the belt of his trousers.

 

“Especially with such _company_ , I may be inclined to rescind such thoughts...” He pulled at her hands pressing them to her sides, deciding he wanted some semblance of control; his voice strained, the sporadic breathing, his desire for her evident.

 

A shake of his head brought him to. He kissed the soft skin between her breasts, listening to her heartbeat - quickening with his touch, his hands running themselves up her arms to cup her head between his hands, staring into her big blue eyes.

 

“To lavish my attentions on.” He kissed her parted lips, her eyes closing at the contact, “To spoil - to defile.” His low words muffled against her neck as he kissed at her skin, gripping her harder, her own fingers pressing into his bare skin.

 

Their bodies moving in a slight rhythm. His hand sliding under the fabric of her suit, fingers running along her breasts, the nipple freed, his mouth taking purchase atop the soft pink flesh. Smiling against at her sighs, the press of her body to him; “I will take far more liberties with all of it.” He pulled away and looked up, his green eyes meeting the deep blue of her own. She leaned in and he could feel her lashes grazing his cheeks.

 

“Someone to enjoy it with.” She smiled at his last words, though they were nearly inaudible. 

 

“I know this is just a little distraction but, thank you.” She whispered it against his neck, her arms snaking around him.

 

“I know you will never be truly content until you have everything. And even then...” He chuckled, his eyes wandering over her half-naked figure, her flushed skin - taking in the sight of her laid before him. 

 

“You've made it far manageable.” She looked away, he pulled her in. “Liar.” She whispered as he kissed her lips. “Say what you will. One dream of mine has been satiated.”

 

“A liar and a flatterer.” She purred, “Easy when she's _your_ wife and half-naked in your lap.”

 

“Don’t discredit yourself Sweetling. Though it does further prove  _I have excellent taste_.” She pulled away and playfully swatted at his chest.

 

Himself catching her wrist, kissing the skin and pulling her in again. Wanting that half-naked form pressed against his, for her to feel him - what she did to him, to bury himself between those slender legs. She sighed with his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her in, silenced by a fervid kiss. Lips parting to taste the other. After a moment she pulled away, resting her forehead against his lips, a heavy sigh. She moved her arms to wrap her fingers around the collar of his linen shirt. In these gestures, he could tell her thoughts were elsewhere, _for the time being_.

 

“What if I can’t. What if someone - you don’t come in time or he doesn’t take the -” she was silenced with the feeling of her head lifted up “My love, you will take that boy, that monster, and _make him yours - for a time._ I can imagine it won’t be hard for him to be enchanted by you. Even the most dangerous men can be outmaneuvered and besides your own talents, _you’ve learned from the very best_.”

 

“Peytr.” She gave a small huff, though he could see the corners of her mouth forming a smile.

 

His other hand moved to rest on the back of her head, weaving his fingers through her wavy locks. “You are strong. And will be strong without me. Worst comes to worst and it all goes to hell I we’ll just have to shoot the bastard and leave." His eyes were serious though he had the sense to laugh at his last words, knowing it would never come to that. Sansa ultimately a woman who could handle herself, and would never allow a situation like that to get out of hand.

 

But if it did -  the boy was dead, by his hand and Petyr not a man to get his hands dirty. 

 

She gave him a smile and a deep breath, composing herself. Leaning in, her voice low, the gleam in her eyes returning; “Thank you, now kiss me.” He smiled and pressing her to him, shifted their two bodies. Sansa now underneath him on the lounge chair, now remembering the state of undress she was in and tugging at the last bit of a knot that remained, loosened the fabric around her chest and middle, exposing more flesh.

 

Kissing at her warm skin he slowly made his way up to her lips, taking time with her request; though giving her an appraising and knowing stare with each look. Finally he kissed her, his eyes voluntarily closing, hands roaming over her exposed skin, feeling her sigh and moan. Himself allowing a sigh with her tongue parting his lips, a roll of her hips, pressing deeper into him. Both bodies and minds now fully in the present. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have not been keeping up, but - I am actively back to writing this fic! *fingers crossed it sticks* Thank you my loves and hope you enjoyed this little chapter. 
> 
> ♡ B
> 
> (Also, can follow me on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/b-baminal)


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